A Dastardly and Cunning Plan
by Monkey Ruler
Summary: Harry and the gang repeat their seventh year, and Draco feel the needs to protect his loyal subjects from the abuse they are subjected to from the winning side of the war. Goodbye 7th book epilogue. Eventual DM/HP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't have any claim on the Harry Potter world. Only my imagination.

"_Professor Snape!" Harry exclaimed, running to the man viciously bleeding to death from the rather large snake bite. It was a nasty looking wound, and neither were too hopeful of the outcome._

"_Get away from me, boy, you'll get my blood dirty with your Gryffindor filth." The man struggled to sit up but instead just looked like he was wriggling around a bit. It was all very unmanly, but he managed to pull it off okay._

"_You're bleeding to death!"_

"_I've got eyes, boy. And a deteriorating nervous system that I can feel very clearly, thank you. Listen, boy. I sort of expected this to happen—I'm not stupid. Just take this vial," He weakly got out a vial from his robe pocket, "And look at the memories inside it. Stupid boy. Don't know why you're the fate of the wizarding world. Draco is a much more intelligent boy than you. Not his fault his parents are alive to hinder him so. You know, fear for their safety and whatnot."_

* * *

"What the hell is this? That is not how it happened at all!" A loud voice protested, throwing aside the papers in a fit.

"Yes, yes it is. I know—I was there." A blond man, tall and seventeen years of age shoved the brunette sitting beside him roughly. The boy unfortunately did not fall off the boulder the two were sitting on. He then whipped his wand out in a stylish fashion and summoned the crumpled pages, smoothing it out with his wand. And a nice spell.

"You were not!" The brunette insisted, striking green eyes glaring at the unwelcome boy beside him, "_I _should know! I was the one who experienced it all!!"

"And you think I didn't experience anything, either?" The blond asked snidely, effectively shutting up the other and his Gryffindor heart.

"Malfoy.. I didn't mean..."

Draco hid a smirk and instead adopted a wounded puppy look.

Draco _so _good at manipulating him, now that he wasn't as childish as before. As in he decided to ignore everything that happened up until their final Hogwarts year.

Everyone was repeating a grade, thanks to the war. And no one was looking down on them at all. Even the actual first years having classes with the second-year first years weren't saying anything. Like they had the balls to, after they heard rumors that the previous year had Defense Against the Dark Arts replaced with just plain, old Dark Arts.

There weren't many students at Hogwarts, anyway. All had either transferred during the war or were _dead._

A lot of them were dead.

There were even fewer Slytherin than Draco would have thought. Only a handful from each grade. Only him, Blaise, Gregory, and Pansy from his year. Greg hadn't spoken much. Or eaten much, either. None of them have, really. They were more cautious than ever before, now that their side lost. Blaise's family was neutral, but that didn't matter. He was still Slytherin. Therefore, he still watched his back and traveled in packs. The four were as inseparable as the damned Golden Trio.

And speaking of the Golden Trio, Draco had plans for them. Not dastardly evil plans, but plans of self preservation. A plan to turn that Golden Trio into a Golden _Sept-_o. That was french and creative liberties mixed together to equal A Golden (group of seven).

No one would even _think _to try and cross them if they were hanging with the savior of the bloody-fucking-wizarding-world. The Boy-Who-Was-Now-a-Man-After-Killing-the-Man-Who-Ruined-His-Boyhood. That was a mouthful of a title, but it's length only served to represent the length of his popularity.

Draco still mostly hated him, but after last year had a grudging respect for him. The heroics weren't all for show, if he could save Draco's life and not mock him for it. Not even mention it to anyone, how he had to save the pathetic Draco Malfoy even when he and his friends were trying to capture _him_. How he was so much of an _afterthought _in terms of a threat to his safety that he could afford saving him from an endless fire and then just run off with his back to him.

Okay, so Draco might have hated him even _more _than the previous years. But he was a damned good actor.

Self-loathing and Potter-bashing begone from his mind!

And now back to the gaining of Potter's friendship and protection!

"Listen, Malfoy—lots of things happened. Lots of bad things, to _everyone, _and I'm not undermining the bad things that happened to you or anything—_fuck, _I'm sounding like an arse—I mean, some of the things you went through were just as shitty as the things I've been forced through, if not shittier. Or, well, I don't know if it was shittier, since our circumstances were a bit different. Polar opposites that can't be compared in levels of shittiness."

"I almost miss when your defining vocabulary words were 'eurgh' and 'um', Potter." Draco morphed his default sneer into a playfully teasing smirk, one that Pansy said was _quite _drool worthy, "Atleast it was possible to discern some sense from the few actual words you managed to utter. Now, I don't think even you know what you're saying." The kicked-puppy face was abandoned for a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look.

"So I've gone up on the literacy levels but rapidly fell in terms of my articulateness."

"That sentence was plenty articulate, even though I'm a bit surprised that articulateness is an actual word. And as long as you stick to the somewhat witty repartee, I'm sure you'll eventually get to a state where you sound _remotely _intelligent." Draco grinned charmingly at the boy beside him.

"And as much as I enjoy this repartee, I must inquire why you are here in the first place."

The two were being surprisingly civilized to one another. Draco was quite pleased. Potter was confused as fuck.

"I don't think you'd like the details of why I'm here. It's all very fluid. And not in the metaphorical sense. And pretty disgusting. I mean, from my dastardly good looks I must admit that they are in most ways thanks to my parents, but I don't want to imagine them doing anything of the sort that required my existence."

"_Merlin, _I didn't mean _that._" Potter said disgustedly.

"It's called joking, Potter. I know full well what you meant." Draco said dryly.

"Well, when someone who was your mortal enemy for the past seven or odd years drops by, sits next to you, shoves a completely _preposterous_ manuscript in your face," The title that was completely preposterous, but not so much as the actual storyline, was Harry Potter and the Adventure That Was Slightly Less Thrilling Than Draco Malfoy's: A Story of the Boy Who Lived in Mediocrity, "And expects you to make a _book _out of it... Why are you here, Malfoy? Minus the disturbing jokes."

"Just thought I'd be friendly with you." Draco shrugged, "Why? Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know anymore." Potter sighed in exhaustion, "You confuse me so much."

"And why is that?" He asked, preparing to cut him off at any moment's notice if things got too Hufflepuff.

That was a wizarding term for overly emotional and sissy-like.

Or a Slytherin term for overly emotional and sissy-like.

"Well, you seemed perfectly content with ignoring my existence this year right up until about five minutes ago. How do you even know I was there when Snape died?"

"Oh... You were?" Draco asked, "I just figured it would be dramatic. You think he's some dastardly evil death eater man who killed your beloved headmaster, and then he dies and you get some memories showing you differently and then you feel like a complete _arse_. So I figured—Dammit, I'm rambling. Shut me up, Potter. Now."

"Nevermind." Potter sighed again.

"Thank you."

"So is there any particular reason why you're trying to be friendly with me?" And failing a bit miserably.

"Why ever do I need a reason to chat up the Great Wondrous Hero of the Modern Wizarding World?" That was the name of the latest Daily Prophet article about him, which was more like a gossip rag than anything. Potter enjoyed eating ginger snaps, apparently.

Potter just stared at him, a bit bewildered.

"I usually go here to be alone, Malfoy. Not many people interrupt me."

"Because not many people have the balls to." Draco said in a matter-of-fact tone that was an oddly accurate impression of Hermione.

"And not many people go here, anyway. Why are you here? How do you even know this place?"

"Well, you can either believe that I followed you here," Potter was about to start a rant about privacy that would have given Draco an annoying migraine, "Oh, don't think that I did any worse than anything your snivelling fans have." That made Potter about to start another rant demanding what his fans have done that he wasn't privy to, "Or you can believe that I come here regularly and I came upon you in my thinking spot, and chose to take advantage of such an opportunity." It was more like a mix of the two, really.

"When did you find this place?" Potter asked suspiciously.

"It's a fucking boulder on the outskirts of the forest conveniently hidden from view by most of the castle by the bloody huge boulder in front of it. It's pretty hard to avoid detection."

"Listen, I pretty much trust my instincts. And they say I should be wary of you."

"That's your common sense, Potter. Instincts have absolutely nothing to do with it, and if that's the extent to which your instincts reach than I'm surprised you actually killed the Da—Vol—You-Know—That big bastard." Draco sighed in annoyance. This wasn't working out well. Might as well tug at the Gryffindor's heart strings. The truth sounded pathetic enough to get his sympathy, "Listen, Potter. Me and mine have been ostracized and threatened the moment we stepped back on the grounds. To say that I'm befriending you for an ulterior motive would be an entirely accurate assumption. One of your first, actually! Congratulations. Especially since me and mine are going to merge with your unapproachable golden trio as soon as you get to dinner."

"Wait, what!? Don't I have a say in it?"

"Not really, no. Can't see why I haven't thought of it before. Even your dearest friends—your little posse that helped you save the day a few times—give the three of you a wide berth. Your Weaslette hangs on you like a groupie, sneering at all the other jealous girls, and none of them dare touch her in fear of your great wizardly wrath. You're celebrities. It's perfect."

"You're... You..."

"Ah, I've rendered you illiterate again. Must be my wit."

"Or my indignation!" Potter exclaimed, "Malfoy, I'm not going to be some title you can use as a stepping stone!"

Draco's easy-going smile dropped, "I would rather have _died _than use your fame to my advantage. Even cunning plans such as this are usually held back by _pride. _But your little do-gooder followers aren't as good as you think when they're pissed off at us Slytherin scum. You're not a bloody stepping stone. You're our means of protection. Not that we can't take care of our own, well and good. But times are tough now and we can't afford chance like that."

Potter's eyes were still narrowed and suspicious.

"Why should I believe a word you say?"

"Because my reasons are so completely realistic they are true? The _one_ time we let our guard down, Pansy was jumped. By _men_. And they did things that, if not covered up, would have ruined her for a good marriage. Not that the war hadn't already done that." Draco implied, his eyes narrowing into thin little slits, beating Potter in their ferocity.

That was a bloody nightmare. They had thought they were doing good, Pansy waiting by the girl's locker room for the boys to show up and walk her to the next class. But someone had taken Blaise's Chaser mitts, and when he attempted to _Accio _them, all they heard was rattling. So it took all three of them to _Accio _the gloves, find out that someone had flushed the gloves down the toilet, _uproot _the sewage pipes from the ground and decide that Blaise would be buying new Chaser gloves.

And when they got to the girl's locker room to escort their star Keeper, they found her crumpled behind the broom shed instead, bruised and battered and shamed and swearing vengeance.

Three boys found WWW products in their food the next morning.

A week later they were found unconscious, beaten in the head instead of Confunded. Much more effective in terms of how difficult it was to regain their memory.

The next day Goyle indulged himself in three cookies and a slice of blueberry pie.

Potter didn't know what to say.

He was used to violence. Abuse of practically all kinds. Starvation. Dark, enclosed spaces. Death.

But that was one topic he strayed far from in all forms; something that frustrated Ginny to no ends, he was sure. He couldn't even fathom what that must have been like. How it must have been for anyone _around _her, much less what she herself had gone through.

He looked at Draco with determination.

Draco hid a satisfied smirk.

"Fine, then. But any jokes about the Weasley family and I'm personally kicking your arse."

"I mean it all in jest." Potter just looked up at him, "Well, if I do tease him from now on I'll only mean it in jest."

"I'm serious. He's touchy about that stuff." Potter warned.

"All the more reason to desensitize him to it. That's my job as your arch-nemesis. To make you tougher." Draco said, making up so much bullshit on the spot he was wondering if his career as a politician really _was _hopeless, "It worked, right? You won the war and everything. I made you tough."

"You made yourself into a total prat."

"And made you tough." Draco insisted.

"Right. It's almost dinner time. Are you going to implement your dastardly plan now with the rest of the Slytherins?"

"We call ourselves the Silver Quadruplet." Draco joked, "The Slytherins are too vague."

"Right." Potter nodded slowly.

"That was a joke, by the way. Don't call us that. Really. We have standards."

Potter stayed silent.

"You're different. From before, I mean." Potter said, being completely and totally vague and idiotic.

"To you, maybe." Draco was slow in his speech, careful of how he worded things, "I'm just a little less childish."

"A hell of a lot less than a complete git, at least. Now only a little more than half of a git."

"And the other part is my sheer brilliance that you never before were graced with. But now I have moved on past my silly grudge," Or have chosen to ignore it for the sake of self-preservation, "and have decided to embrace you. Not literally, of course. But in the figurative sense. I am now following the religion of Potterism. Delightful little pamphlet. Do we really get free lightning-bolt shaped cookies with every purchase in your gift shop?"

"What the devil are you going on about, Malfoy?"

"I'm being funny and spontaneous, you unimaginative clout." He sniffed in an insulted tone.

"Is this your way of trying to win over my affection and let you and your friends under my supposed protection or whatever in Merlin you were talking about? Because it's working out very poorly."

"What, do you expect me to completely do away with my personality for your convenience? Aren't you comforted at my strength of willpower? How I choose to embrace my individuality? How I refuse to lie," that much, "and suck up to you? Because I always considered myself an honest person when it came to you, Potter."

"I miss having justification to punch you in the face." Potter sighed, "Now I just feel like it'd be like hitting a madman."

"A _desperate _man. I'd have to be to seek your company willingly, Potter. And never hit a desperate man."

Oh how Potter wished his conscience would let him.

**Author's Note: **Please don't hate me for any details referring to the seventh book I might have off. I've only read it once, and that was a long while ago, so some things are a little fuzzy.


	2. Chapter 2

"I presume that Mr. Potter has been gracious enough to allow us his presence for this evening's meal?" Pansy asked as soon as the pair reached the castle, Harry just about ready to either kill Draco or off himself. Her face was tilted up, so she could attempt to look down at Harry in superiority.

He was taller than her. By a lot. She didn't lift her face enough so that she could feel like she was looking down on him. Proper ladies knew what made them look absolutely ridiculous.

"Of course. I'm the one who made the deal, and when have I ever failed you all?" Draco boasted proudly.

Silence reigned.

Draco then glowered at them.

"Erm, what _is _the deal, exactly?"

Blaise looked very official as he stared down Harry, being on a more equal level with him than Pansy. Height-wise, of course. If Pansy wasn't equal to boys, she was better. And if they thought they were better than her, she would beat them down until they were either on equal or lower levels.

"Mealtimes will be spent in close vicinity. If one of us is not sitting directly across from you, one of us will be sitting next to you. Regardless of where our exact positions are, we are to act on friendly terms. Shared classes will require acknowledgment of each other's presence, if not one of us sitting with you. We will show friendly relationships with each other, and the public will accept us as one of the many you've taken under your wings."

Draco internally laughed at the mental image of Potter with wings. He'd probably be a Griffin. Some big, heroic lion bird protecting all the nufflers and flobberworms of the forest.

"Erm, okay."

"God, he's still as incapable of speaking as ever." Pansy rolled his eyes, "I would have thought saving the world would have given you some confidence, at least."

He looked at her. He 'erm'ed'. He looked away. He glanced back again and then looked away and let out an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat after his mouth opened as if he were trying to think of something to say. Or as if he were trying to attract pixies to fly into his mouth and lay eggs.

"You bloody _told him_!?" Pansy was able to deduce, smacking Draco hard on the arm.

"Fuck, woman!" Draco hissed. Pansy hit hard, "I only implied anything, he figured it out on his own!"

"Yeah?" She whispered at him angrily, her eyes narrowing for a second before looking at him with a cold, blank face. Scowling caused wrinkles, "And how did you imply it? With a blinking neon sign? Potter's not the brightest of blokes. Your implying must have been heavily detailed. It was probably as subtly implied as someone running at him with a flaming axe!"

"It worked, didn't it!?" He whispered right back with just as much venom in his mouth that she did. Draco always gave as good as he got, if not better. The sheer amount of _arrogance _in their little group often led to arguments such as this, where everybody thought that they were in the right and that the other was daft. It took Slytherin cunning and mass amounts of manipulation on both parts to ever come up with a solution that they could agree with. Or pretend to agree with and then sneakily get revenge for.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

The two of them smiled cheerily at him before glaring at each other and walking a good distance away from the group.

"He better not tell anyone." Pansy warned.

"As if he would be comfortable enough to bring it up. He's probably too awkward to even _wank _probably, the poor thing. How much do you want to bet that he hasn't even done anything with the Weaslette?"

"Like I'd be daft enough to take that bet. I've heard the rumors. She's been complaining to her closest friends, who just so happen to be horrible gossips. Potter hasn't done anything but snog the poor bint."

"And that poor bint snogger is our key to prosperity in this bloody worthless school. And, though I may be getting a bit ahead of myself, but if we stay on his good side, maybe even _befriend_ him, how do you think the years after Hogwarts are going to go?" He gives her a big charming grin, "Put on that shite eating smile, Pansy darling, because we're in the process of bagging the only boy more influential then the Minister of Bloody Magic."

Pansy thinks about it and knows that he's completely correct. And of course he is. He's _Draco Malfoy_.

"I so much as hear a _single rumor _about what happened..." She warns.

"Feel free to _Avada _me and any other involved parties."

"_Avada_ is too quick and painless for my tastes." She says, giving him the grin that showed off the sadistic streak that the majority of Slytherin women tended to have. The one that says they either shag you or rip out your innards or _both _without a second thought and not think anything of you in the process. Ruthless, those Slytherin women. "But if you feel the need to imply what happened to anyone else..." She warns, "Don't."

She glares and he knows without a doubt that if she were a little less level headed she would enact the very painful and most probably illegal methods of revenge she was thinking up in that imaginative head of hers. Then she turns around with a flourish and walks back to Potter. She smiles brightly. Her eyes do that twinkle thing that's almost as impressive as the late Dumbledore's. The one that makes all who see it either scared shitless or unbelievably trusting. If you couldn't pull it off even a little by the time you graduated, you were a shite Slytherin.

"So how about supper, then?" She asks in an unbelievably chipper tone.

"Er, okay I guess." Harry says, breaking up whatever awkward conversation he was having with the two male Slytherins.

Blaise turns to Draco with a smirk, and Draco smirks back. No doubt Blaise was doing all he could to make Harry feel as uncomfortable as possible as subtly as possible. The Zabini's were a very subtle family. And since Harry's face was red and he was walking at a slightly quickened pace compared to the rest of them, which Draco's long strides quickly made up for (because _Merlin _Potter was short,) Blaise was no doubt inquiring innocently about his girlfriend with not-so-innocent intentions.

But that was way too easy. Blaise would have to up his game if he wanted to impress Draco any.

* * *

Dinner was one of the most uncomfortable moments Harry ever had to live through.

In his _life_.

It completely one-upped the disastrous date with Cho. Mrs. Figg's house, reeking of cabbage and littered with cats, was a place of excitement and comfort compared to the dinner he had endured.

Everyone was surprised, of course, when Harry entered the hall with the four Slytherin in tow. They were always surprised by Harry's actions and no amount of surprising things that Harry did could ever stop them from being surprised time and time again. Ever since he saved the wizarding world, in a _very _unimpressive fashion if you asked him, every little thing he did, from his mundane tendency to drink pumpkin juice with every single meal he had to sneaking down to Hagrid's and slowly developing an immunity to dangerous magical creatures. Hell, some dangerous magical creatures even _liked _him, much to Hagrid's delight.

Everything he did was newsworthy and shocking to the public. Even Ron and Hermione hardly knew what to make of him sometimes. And Ginny, well, she was an easygoing spirit, despite that Weasley temper, and usually just went along with whatever he did.

But went along she did _not _when it came to the Slytherins. She promptly smacked Draco Malfoy in the face, still holding a grudge from the whole Tom Riddle's diary fiasco and being the one who let the death eaters into the school in his sixth year. And being a part of the Inquisitorial Squad in their fifth year. And all the jokes about his family... Bugger. Why did he agree to this again? Oh, right. The 'hero tendency' Hermione said he had. This time brought on about what Malfoy said about Parkinson.

Ginny not only smacked Malfoy. Ginny then proceeded to reach for her wand, think better of it when the four reached for their wands, causing everyone surrounding them to reach for _their _wands, Harry included. Then she called Zabini a cruel bastard and Parkinson a stupid whore and proceeded to stalk away. Harry cringed, but made no move to follow her.

"Erm, sorry. About that." Harry said, mostly to Parkinson.

"You are not needed to apologize for your girlfriend." Pansy sneered, sliding into the emptied space that Ginny previously occupied, with an empty space next to it obviously meant for Harry. Neville, the unfortunate thing, was sitting next to Ginny before. He nearly tripped over himself, even though he was _sitting_, and the whole table seemed to shift down until there's a large gap, enough to fit five wizards, on each side of her.

"You aren't needed to apologize at all to Slytherins!" Ron roared, bread spraying out of his mouth and onto Ginny's old plate. Pansy sneered at it and took out her wand in an attempt to clean it. However, she was severely misunderstood and several wands whipped themselves out in warning. She rolled her eyes and pointed her wand to the plate.

"_Scourgify_." She drawls out, loud and clear and in a tone that said 'har har, you twats.' And then the plate is clean and sparkling and everyone else is feeling wary, relieved, and idiotic.

"Harry?" Hermione asks in a puzzling tone. A mixture of saccharine sweetness and impatience and a barely restrained urge to hex one of the Slytherins and an all around sense of _one misstep and ye shall suffer pain that will strip the fear of death from your bones_, "Why, may I ask, are _they _here?"

"He's been hexed. Blackmailed. I know it!" Ron yells, no food flying out of his mouth this time.

"I figured they could eat with us."

Harry hates how whenever anything happens with him, the whole hall goes dead quiet and stares at him like he's a piece of meat. A piece of gossip-worthy meat, made up of some exotic color with stripes and polka dots and grilled up and cut into little bite size pieces for all the world to sample. Merlin, he was starving.

He sits next to Pansy, knowing that he should be as wary of the Slytherin as his Gryffindor friends were, and he shouldn't be sitting next to Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy's worthy follower, close enough to touch elbows if he so wished. But Harry was one to trust his instincts more than his mind, and sometimes that meant his common sense was overruled, too. And his instincts were telling him that he should protect them, just like he wished back when he was at the Dursley's and young and without any idea of magic that a large furry looking man would fly on over on his motorcycle and protect him. They were alot snarkier than he was, and ever will be, and even though Hagrid was a gentle soul, Harry didn't think he resembled him in the slightest.

Rather it was like he was the alpha male, and the opposite pack had been slaughtered by poachers and he adopted the stray survivors into his pack before they were picked off by other crueler packs. His pack was protective, but not openly hostile. A rather sympathetic pack, actually.

He blamed his rather insane method of thinking on trying to tune out Malfoy for the better (or worse) part of his day. When he wasn't being a hateful arrogant twat, he was being an _insane _arrogant twat.

"You _figured_?" Ron sputtered, "You just were pondering about, doing your deep private thinking, and _figured _to invite our worst enemies to dinner with us? Are you daft!?"

"Obviously from prolonged exposure to _you_, Weasley." Malfoy snorted, sitting on Pansy's right while Harry sat on her left, with Blaise next to Malfoy and Gregory on Harry's left. Harry, completely surrounded by Slytherins and acting completely natural about it.

"Pretty much, yeah." He shrugged, taking a big bite out of his bread, "And shut it, Malfoy. Pass the turkey, will you Ron?"

Ron doesn't care much for the turkey in comparison to freaking out a bit more at Harry.

Pansy figures she might as well one-up Weasley on motor functions and gets the turkey for him, complete with a saucy wink that makes Harry blush. If Ginny were there, she would hex the girl. Hermione considers hexing her for Ginny, but then finds herself too intelligent to engage in the frivolous deadly bickering they usually do when the other side hasn't even drawn wands other than to clean a plate.

"Pretty much!? _Pretty much?!_" Ron, when arguing and stunned past the point of any witty repartee, which happens quite often mind you, usually repeats what the other party says in an attempt to prove how utterly ridiculous the other party is acting. "Six years, they've been our enemies--No! Seven! Seven _years _and it's all ended with a _pretty much!?_"

"Pretty much." Malfoy quips. It was too delicious to pass up.

"Ron, listen, I'll talk to you about it later, okay? I'll explain _everything_."

"No you bloody will not!" Pansy hisses, stabbing her own turkey viciously in warning.

"Okay, I'll give you the abridged version." Harry says, which pleases Pansy enough that she drops her venomous glance and starts cutting up her turkey with a knife that for some reason looks a lot more menacing in her hands than his own looks in his.

"Like anything could make sense of this." Ron mutters.

Hermione, who had spent the majority of her time studying the four, gave Ron a sharp elbow in the side, causing him to cough up some food into his plate. Everyone, which was pretty much the whole school, grimaced.

"Malfoy," She starts, looking up at him casually before back at her food. Draco looks shocked for a second before raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yes? Granger?" He _almost _says mudblood, but catches himself before anyone can notice. He has _fantastic _self-control.

"I'm not sure of my runes work. The last portion had several characters aged beyond magical repair, and enough are missing that the only runic characters in that bit left too much to the imagination. I wrote up a few possibilites, but I'm still unsure. How far did you get?"

Draco blinked. Of course Granger would start a conversation about _homework_. But it was neutral ground.

"I blotted the carving with ink." Draco says quietly, because for all of his acting and self-control, he had never said anything to Granger that wasn't an insult. It was almost painful, holding back his habits like that. He couldn't even say he hated her anymore and he still wanted to ridicule her like he was eleven years old again and she had those garish teeth and that ugly bush for hair.

"Pardon?" Hermione asks, not hearing him.

"The spells that were supplied to us only picks up the known runes in our books and darkens them. But since the carvings were worn down, the spell didn't pick up most of them, right?"

"Right."

"I blotted them with ink, wiped off the excess, and it allowed the spell to identify them easier."

Ron had abandoned paying attention to stuffing his face and pretending that there were no Slytherins around him, and that Draco Malfoy wasn't engaging in conversation about _Ancient Runes _of all things with his girlfriend.

"Brilliant! I don't know _why _I didn't think of it. I mean, of course the ink would pick up the cracks and make them more visible. And only a few of them had pieces missing that will force some inference on my part, but not _nearly _as reliant on guesswork as it was before. I've gotten myself _entirely _dependent on spells, I've nearly forgotten how to improvise a little bit."

"Everyone is at some point in their lives. Most all their lives." Draco shrugs off, "Completely ruins whatever potential they might have had."

"Your cynicism is showing, Draco darling." Pansy says absentmindedly.

"I like to think of myself more cantankerous than cynical, Pansy dear."

Ron mocks their pet names to each other by mouthing them with a scrunched up face, earning a laugh out of Seamus.

Harry wisely kept to his food, and felt a sort of kinship with Gregory who was doing the same. Pushing food around with his fork and waiting for it all to be over.

"Have a laugh, then." Blaise scoffed, "Will it be just as hilarious when we stoop down to your level, then? _Won won_?"

"You'd have to climb up a bit to reach _my _level, _death eater._" Ron hissed.

An uncomfortable silence followed, in which the students around them had once again taken up watching them like they were their daily soap. Their attention waned a bit during the talk of homework, though some of the Ravenclaws hit themselves on the forehead at not being able to think of such simple tactics to complete their homework correctly, but now they were one hundred percent focused on the middle-left portion of the Gryffindor table.

If this were America, in those half-cities-half-towns that were completely suburban yet attempting to be as ghetto as they could get away with, some white wanker (because _everyone _was racist against white people and they were often the butts of everyone's jokes) would holler, "Oh no you _didn't!_" very very loudly.

Instead, Harry just muttered, "Oh _bugger._" Under his breath, which was more audible than he thought, seeing as how absolutely no one else, not even the _staff_, was saying anything.

Blaise gave Ron a look, a very _very _Slytherin look, which sized Ron up and cut him down into little itty bitty pieces under the scrutiny and deduced that Ronald Weasley was more disgusting and useless than a flobberworm, like the one that he had accidentally stepped on once and then proceeded to scrape off onto the ground before realizing he had a wand and just _evanesco_'ing the thing, because it was so worthless it didn't even deserve to _exist_. All of that in one look.

"Though I shouldn't even _bother _correcting you and your almost _painful _political ignorance," Blaise started out quietly, most of the students straining to hear him, "And let you amuse yourself with your idiotic generalizations of our house, I suppose that I might as well correct you to avoid future situations such as this. I am, to your obvious surprise, _not _a death eater. And while I was raised in a household that encouraged rather old-fashioned political views, my family made it a _point _to avoid the war completely."

"So your family could pick whatever side won with no hard feelings, eh? How'd that work out for you?" Ron sneered.

Blaise gave Ron a little huff of contempt before writing off the argument that was sure to come as not worth the effort.

"Your opinion of my family is obviously as low as mine is for yours." He says decidedly before continuing on with his meal.

Ron, instead of taking the hint and agreeing to disagree, took the comment as a personal attack to his family which he would defend with his life.

"My family may be poor," He says, having so many insults towards his wealth from Slytherins that it was his automatic response to anything concerning his family, "But atleast my mum didn't have to murder several husbands for their inheritance money."

Blaise gives him a look of disgust, far worse than his previous one. It moved on from the sizing up and cutting down to a look that said that Blaise was imagining doing very, _very _painful things that Ron wouldn't like at _all_. A look that said that Blaise would like to mummify him, only skipping past the cleansing bit and going straight to the part where he breaks Ron's nasal cavity, shoves a hook up there and yanks out his brain. He'd forget about the drying and wrapping bit entirely and just leave him there. Because he obviously wasn't in need of a brain, since he used it so rarely.

"Ron!" Hermione snaps, abandoning her well-mannered conversation with Draco to chastise him, "You're being unnecessarily confrontational!"

"Unnecessarily _confontational!?_ You're barkers! Everyone is barkers! You especially!" He pointed a finger at Harry, which Harry skillfully ignored. "I'm the only one that's _sane _right about now!"

"They're _obviously _making an effort, Ron, and you're doing nothing but provoking their anger!"

"They started it!"

"No, Ron, they _didn't!_ You did!"

"I didn't mean right now! I meant for all of school, _they _were always the ones who started it! And I haven't forgotten _any _of it! Hermione, don't you remember what they used to call you!?"

Harry decided to play mediator, as Hermione was starting to turn an interesting shade of red that was level one on Uncle Vernon, but level seven on her.

"Ron!" He barked, and Ron jumped in surprise. "Let's talk. Outside. Hermione?"

The three stood up and disappeared out the doors.

"That was dreadfully entertaining." Pansy noted.

"For you, maybe." Dean sneered, trying to ignore the fact that Seamus was just about to burst into laughter at the whole thing.

Blaise was just now releasing the tight grip he had on his fork, and the murderous rage that was threatening to force him to throttle Weasley like some barbarian was released in a long, angry sigh. Dean could just imagine the poison in Blaise's breath wilting the tiny flower vase cheerfully placed in front of him.

"What do you think'll happen?" Neville asked the table. Shrugs ensued, except for Draco Malfoy who never had any trouble coming to a conclusion about anything.

"Weasley'll bitch, Granger will set him straight in a way that'll absolutely throttle his ego, Potter'll give them some big world shattering tidbit, Weasley'll bitch again, and Granger'll smooth out the whole thing. 'But Her_mione_! They made our lives a living hell! How can you trust them!' 'Because, _Ronald, _I trust Harry's judgment! Now shut up and look pretty for me!' And Potter'll look on and think to himself about something or other. Introverted sod." Draco was very good at reading people, and since the three were his mortal enemies for a large portion of his life he knew them very well.

"Hey!" Seamus exclaimed, "Harry's pretty much the only reason why we haven't cursed you to bits right now. So watch yourself, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah." Draco stirred his soup boredly and ate from the handful of crackers he piled up on his napkin. "Don't presume to know anything about our complicated relationship, Finnegan."

"What complication? He's taking pity on you guys, right? You prolly just turned on a puppy face to save yer own arse."

Draco's eyes narrowed. While he was not afraid to use pity as a weapon as a last resort, he _hated _being pitied. He could handle being hated if he didn't have to worry about the others, but _pity. _It made him feel pathetic. And Malfoys were _not _pathetic.

"There you go, presuming you know everything again. How quick you draw these conclusions, Finnegan! However, maybe if you were more accurate in your irrational thinking you wouldn't always have things blow up in your face. How many times have you had to grow back those eyebrows?"

"Draco Malfoy criticizing _me _on bad decisions? _There's _a laugh, ye spineless coward! As if anybody with two eyes couldn't see right through you. Always gotta hide behind somebody big and powerful, eh?"

Draco did not like Gryffindors. Draco was just about to verbally thrash Finnegan and show him how much of a spineless coward he was, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. A hand on his shoulder that dug almost painfully into him, and for a second he thought that Professor Snape was alive again and about to stop him from doing something incredibly stupid. He looked behind him and didn't know whether to be disappointed or not.

It was Harry Potter giving him a warning glance so similar to Severus' but despite their differing personalities not looking out of place at all on his pretty boy face. And yes, Draco could admit that Harry was a pretty boy. He was secure in his sexuality.

Then Harry gave him a look and a smile that was so incredibly the _opposite _of what Severus stood for, consisting of warmth and compassion and everything that a Slytherin would never in their right mind look at another person with, and Draco had this completely justifiable urge to throw up on his face. It was almost as if they _did _jinx Potter into thinking they were the best of friends. Sickening behavior, that boy had.

"Lay off, Seamus."

"Whatever you say, Harry." Seamus raised his hands in mock defense, learning through years of experience that if it was going to be a battle of who was in the wrong or not, Harry usually came out on top. Not usually, actually. _Always_. That was how he managed to act the hero so many times. He was always _right_. It was a little annoying sometimes. He had the power to talk to snakes and always be right. Always always always.

Seamus' mind was sometimes very repetitive. Like self-hypnosis.

Draco chose to ignore Harry's interference, because that would be like admitting that he _was _hiding behind Harry Potter, and even thought that was _exactly _what he was doing, that didn't mean he had to like it any.

And so he decided to ramble to Pansy.

And then Hermione decided to be intelligent and give his ramblings intelligent inputs that grounded the general insanity of his ramblings.

And then the two decided to be serious about their ramblings, speaking of theories and the possibilities of this and that.

And then they created, all in theory of course, a mobile device intertwining magic and muggle technology to form a sort of magic communication device of global proportions.

Their genius that resulted of their combined intellect made Draco forget for a second who he was talking to. The bushy haired goody goody teacher's pet he was supposed to loathe. And when Weasley gave an angry little cough while they were laughing over their genius, he could tell Granger had forgotten, too. It got a bit awkward after that.

But the Weasley twins could kiss their _arses._

* * *

They went to the library after supper, and by 'they' it was Draco and Hermione leading the way excitedly with the rest of them tagging along to do homework.

Draco and Hermione, of course, had already finished all of their homework and were free to experiment with their global communication tool. Hermione speaks of her basic theory behind those gold coins she used in their fifth year, Draco nods along and makes suggestions that make Hermione go 'of course! Why didn't I think of that?' in a whisper. Then Hermione talks about this new technology muggles were working on. Draco wrinkles his nose at first, but listens on. The war opened his mind a bit, if anything.

The World Wide Web. Kind of like the floo system, but with a potential for _so much more_. And then she described what so much more _was, _and Draco was loath to admit it, but he was the teensiest amazed by how vast the barbarians improved upon their technology from those days of wagons and pitchforks.

They then proceeded to get all kinds of books on floo networks, discussed with each other the inner mechanisms of Patronus communication, how the Patronus was able to lock onto magical signatures and relay the message, the basic elements of the Protean Charm that had linked those coins together in fifth year, and Draco Malfoy spoke of his modifications to that charm, but thankfully shied away from the fact that he had Madame Rosmerta under the imperius at the time of his magical genius, and spoke at such alarming speeds and with such a complicated vocabulary that Harry didn't even bother trying to keep up.

"Merlin," Harry whispers to Ron, "I never thought I'd see someone act just as manic as Hermione with one of her projects before."

It was true. Even the Ravenclaws, as obsessed with their studies as they were, never quite went into the inventive stage. Luna did enough of that for all of them.

Ron scowled into his book as he pretended to read and _not _glower at Malfoy. And he was _not _jealous of the two kindred spirits, thank you.

"Same here." Pansy whispered, "Draco used to go on hundreds of little stints like this, and somehow get a few followers." She didn't mention Gregory or Vincent, but it was implied, "In fifth year, he had bribed all of the house elves of your tower to come and cater to him." Harry snorted. He didn't know whether the elves went to the Slytherin tower to cater to Draco or be rid of Hermione and her attempts at setting them free. Draco was anti-Hermione, "This one elf, Winky, still seems to worship the huffy little Italian shoes he struts around in. Problems, that one's got."

Harry stifled a laugh, because even though it sounded absolutely ridiculous, at the same time he could picture it all so clearly.

"You're all insane." Ron huffs, and snaps his book close before storming away.

"Not _again_." Hermione sighs.

Blaise gives a little huff of laughter that screams superiority to Ron's little outburst.

And even though it's horribly rude and very Slytherin like, and Ron's his best friend so he should automatically be defending him to the others, because he gets why Ron's angry, he _really does,_ Harry can't hate Blaise for it. In just a few hours, their... _colorful _personalities had grown on him.

His heart really was too big for it's own good.

* * *

It's dark now, and Harry is staring up at the sky. He'd been doing that alot, lately, ever since he had paid attention in Astronomy classes and learned the names of some of the constellations. And purebloods really did have very unimaginative names. Sirius. The dog star. It was like he was destined to be who he was.

His cloak and his map lay beside him, though he had turned off the map hours ago. Let Filch catch him, if he could be bothered coming up all the way over here. His boulder behind a boulder.

"Good morning, Potter." A cheery voice says, and Harry whips his wand out in a mixture of war and Quidditch reflexes before relaxing. Draco Malfoy was strange sometimes, but not _stupid_.

"It's three in the morning." Harry mutters back, "The blood hell are you doing here?"

"Haven't we already gone through these motions? This boulder hidden behind a boulder isn't just _your _thinking spot."

"At _three in the morning_, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugs and settles himself next to Potter on the small boulder.

"Inspiration waits for no one."

"What on earth are you on about now, Malfoy?"

"In truth, I am an insomniac." He admits dramatically, collapsing onto the boulder and spreading out his arms, staring up at the night sky. And here Harry was just about to do the same thing, before Draco came along.

"Oh." Harry says.

"Yeah. Got an hour or two of rest and wandered over here. I have a new manuscript, by the way. It's from _his_ view point." The Dark Lord. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. Voldemort. Whatever. "Renamed him Mortimer, for copyright purposes."

"Mortimer." Harry said dryly as Draco handed him the bundle of pages.

Harry flipped through a few pages, thinking that all the exciting things always happened in the middle, and Draco frowned at him. So uncultured, unable to read the beginning of a book properly. He wouldn't admit that as a child he used to always skip to the middle to where all the action was, before Lucius came in and chastised him rather roughly, saying that Draco was a _Malfoy_, and Malfoys never acted as if they were patient and always took their time and were never so _plebian _as to _skip ahead _in a book as if they were incapable of reading the book all the way through.

_'Mortimer was very disappointed in his minions. He had specifically asked for twelve virgin maidens the day before, and they had brought him thirteen instead._

_He was never one to leave anything incomplete, which is why he spent the better part of his life hunting down one little boy who refused to die, and that mindset also heavily applied itself to his eating habits. He always looked down on wasteful behavior. But he felt dreadfully stuffed now. Especially since he had to eat his minions, also. He wouldn't be able to respect himself if he didn't._

_Good help was so hard to come by.'_

"This is.."

"Literary genius?" Draco supplied for him, "I know."

Harry considered the boy next to him. He was pale and a little sickly looking, but he supposed that he had gotten used to Draco appearing in that manner since sixth year and the ensuing war. There were dark circles under his eyes, proving his little funfact about him being an insomniac.

"You have the oddest thoughts running through your head." He says, amazed. He thought with all that arrogance shoved up there, it left little room for anything else. But apparently he was wrong and there were _many _other things in that head of his. Insane thoughts.

That was it. Draco was insane.

"You you don't seem to voice yours enough." Draco scoffed, "I mean, _really_, the whole Wizarding World is hanging off every word you say, and you say nothing!"

Harry's eyes narrow. He always hated people talking about his fame, much less expecting him to act any different because of it.

"I mean, I know you're trying to stay true to your modest Gryffindor heart, but you don't have to be a soldier all your life. I mean, that's what you're planning, right? A life as an auror, blindly taking up assignments and doing whatever you're told?"

Thank you, Draco, for ruining his career plan with one sentence.

"And what do you suggest?"

"Well, auror's pretty much what you're built for. But taking advantage of your fame isn't evil, you know."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not going to end up like some Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Gilderoy Lockhart was a useless _ponce._" Draco scoffed, "How about your idol, Albus Dumbledore. You're in your _prime_. Anything you want changed in the wizarding world, you talk about it, and it gets done. They're practically _dying _to please their little golden boy."

"But I don't _want _them. I don't want _any _of it! It was all just dumb luck. Everything. Meeting Ron and Hermione, getting into Gryffindor, defeating Voldemort again and again. All of it. Just luck."

"_Dumb _luck, apparently. How could _luck _get you into Gryffindor? The hat reads your bloody _mind_, twat. It wasn't the luck bit. It was just _dumb_."

"No, not like _that_." Harry says, frustratedly, and realizes that he's never told anybody this before but Dumbledore. He's about to tell one of his deepest darkest secrets to _Draco Malfoy_, sworn enemy since age eleven.

"Then like what, Golden Boy? Rain down on me your words of wisdom." The sarcasm almost makes him smile.

"It was about fifty fifty." Harry admits, "Between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"You're having a toss at me, aren't you?" Draco laughs, "You're everything that Gryffindor _stands _for."

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." Harry insists, "But I told him not to."

"Oh you did, did you?" Draco asks with eyes narrowed.

"Well, you had just gotten sorted into Slytherin, and I heard all that talk about dark wizards in Slytherin, and I just thought, well, you know." Harry shrugged, "So he said he'd put me in Gryffindor."

"Fantastic." Draco breathes, just a little bit of his anger leaking through. He leaps up and starts pacing. "Bloody _fantastic_."

"What?" Harry asks curiously.

"Just.. You and your bloody _luck_. Imagine, if you had shook my hand that day. Been sorted into Slytherin."

"I shudder at the thought."

Draco gave him a heated glance, _just _about pulling himself back from doing something undignified, like punching the idiot in the face. Stupid, selfish Potter. If Harry Potter was a Slytherin, a snake with that stupid golden heart and with Draco as his best friend with his black heart instead of that blundering poverty stricken _fool, _forced to live in the snake pit with those good intentions of his.

Well, imagine how life would have been different. Slytherins wouldn't have been the house of dark wizards and cowards, for one. Harry Potter would win them over with that do-gooder face of his. Draco's life wouldn't have been so dark, for one. No doubt Harry would win his father over, if not with his personality than with his fame. Everything wouldn't have been forced into black and white like it was.

Draco might've had a chance.

Begone, disgusting thoughts. No use dwelling on the past and getting all angst-ridden and whatnot. Especially for that... That _Potter. _Stupid, selfish Potter.

"Malfoy?"

Draco held back an insult.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Is there something wrong?"

Stupid, selfish Potter. Here he was, getting angry at him, and the poor sod didn't even know what he did. No wonder the Wizarding World loved him. He was like a soft-spoken child, sometimes. And though Draco was cruel sometimes, he was not _that _cruel.

"No, Potter." Draco sighed, sitting gracefully back down beside the idiot, "Everything is fine."

"Okay, then." Harry said, not really believing him at all.

**A/N: **A bit of literary vomit with hardly any editing at all. So please ignore any grammatical atrocities hiding in the story, please. I really cannot write so late at night.

And the author does not hate white people who act gangster. She thinks cheesy stereotypes are sexy, actually. And the Ron bashing is all in good humor.

And this is a DMHP story, by the way. There may be wild flirtation on everyone's part and some jealousy, but that's just how teenagers are. We all act as if we want our life to be like an episode of the OC or something. Not that I've ever seen it, I just imagine it to be filled with wild flirtation and jealousy.


	3. Chapter 3

Ah, morning. A good morning. No nightmares that he could remember, no Slytherins in sight, and that nice lilac scent that signified the entrance of his girlfriend.

"Hey, Harry." Ginny greets, coming up behind him and grabbing his hand as if she were surprising him. The two started walking towards the dining hall, and Ginny lightly swung the two hands together, aware of the envious eyes glued onto their clasped hands. Harry was completely oblivious of the lust-filled stares the girls all had for him, but Ginny hadn't practically grown up with people staring. In fact, she used to _be_ one of the many staring, "What was on about last night?"

"What about?" Harry asks right back.

"Oh come off it. You know what I mean. When have you ever kept Slytherin company? Willingly, I mean."

Harry shrugs, not really knowing what to say. As if he ever does. Hermione says that he's unable to express himself properly using his words because he never had a proper literary outlet as a child. Ron said that nobody liked a bloody mind healer. They all skirted over the fact that they had obligatory sessions with a mind healer on McGonagall's orders. He was diagnosed with the wizarding version of survivor's guilt. It was alot like muggle's survivor's guilt. Only wizards didn't have a name for it. There were wars, but most until recently involved trolls and ogres. The most recent war only had survivors like Remus or Moody, and they certainly weren't the type to go to therapy

"Well, I just figured it was the right thing to do." He says finally. Ginny had been doing that alot lately. Staying silent and waiting for him to respond properly to whatever she said. Even when he was content with nothing being his answer. It led to a few lengthy silences that he would always be forced to break.

"The right thing.." Ginny sighs and shakes her head, "I don't know whether to love you or hate you for it. The right thing to do. Merlin. Why can't you be as biased as the rest of us?"

He threw out a few words in an attempt to respond to her question. Mostly it was unintelligible gibberish.

"It was a rhetorical question, Harry." She smiles softly, humor twinkling in her eyes.

"Right." Harry laughs. Awkwardly.

Merlin, he was shite with people.

* * *

When they walked into the dining hall, Harry decided then and there that Hogwarts would never cease to surprise him, especially now that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were barely tolerating each other.

Case One: Pansy Parkinson and Seamus Finnegan were talking.

Loudly and obnoxiously and filled with many disturbing innuendos that made Harry feel very uncomfortable. They were commenting on this morning's sausage, something Ginny muttered to him as very unimaginative and immature as she sat down, and Seamus proved himself as the horny bastard of Gryffindor tower. No one was off limits from his perversion. Men and women alike fell prey to his raging hormones. Merlin knew Harry had to run out of the dorms a few times because Seamus decided to get friendly with him.

"The sausage is wonderful this morning." Pansy said in a casual manner, seeming a little tame compared to the leer of a smirk on her face.

"I've had better, personally."

"Really? Not here, obviously. The selection is rather... Limited."

"Where the hell have you been? It's like a bloody meathouse in here, yeah?"

Lavender breaks out into giggles while Parvati looks mildly disgusted with the rather loud conversation. In that moment, Hermione and her look so alike it's almost scary.

"Harry!" Ron hisses, "You see what they've been up to all morning!? One Seamus was bad enough, we can't handle two! Let Slytherin keep them. Please."

"Don't bother Potter just because you're getting flustered, Weasley." Draco drawled casually, hardly even aware he was insulting him. His overwhelming loathing of the redheaded dunce combined with his overwhelming protective urges over any slight insult towards Pansy practically fed him insults involving the Weasel at a near constant rate, "It's not their fault that you've been forced into abstinence."

"I wouldn't talk of unwilling abstinence if I were you, Draco darling." Pansy said snidely, and if Draco weren't so protective over her he would throttle her himself.

"And if I were you, Pansy dearest, I would never speak at all." Draco sneered back.

"What's this I hear?" Said Seamus loudly, "Is Draco Malfoy, Slytherin sex god, not gettin' anything but his right hand?"

Draco's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I'd watch that tongue, Finnegan. You might just end up losing it." He hissed.

Draco Malfoy had no issue in successfully seducing a woman. In fact, that was the problem. In fourth year, he had seduced a girl a year or two below him (he wasn't paying much attention to her, actually,) and the girl had fallen madly in love with him and refused to let him be. A nasty wizarding restraining order, an attempted suicide on her part, and a rather humiliating law suit filed by her parents later, Draco Malfoy vowed never to be with a younger woman. At least while in Hogwarts. And seeing as how the only women his age were insane women like Granger or Pansy or Millicent... Well...

It was frustrating, to say the least.

"Wouldn't you rather be having it put to good use?" Seamus leered, and a little bile rose up in Draco's throat, which he quickly washed down with a swig of his drink. Not only a Gryffindor, but an uncouth vulgar one who spent the better part of his childhood bald from his inability to perform the simplest forms of magic.

"Draco has very high standards," Pansy explained, ending the lengthy silence Draco initiated, "Always was a picky thing. Prat always got whatever he wanted, and he always wanted the best."

"Not always." Ron muttered, earning a glare from Pansy, "What!? Everyone was thinking it. Harry downright rejected the bastard first year. Serves the spoiled bastard right."

"Jealousy is unbecoming, Weasley. I'm sure your girlfriend doesn't much appreciate that trait of yours. Doesn't she always go on about how immature you are in your behavior? Then again, growing up in such a-"

Harry kicked his shin from under the table.

"Loving family, that it's understandable for a weak-willed individual such as yourself to get a little spoiled."

"I don't know whether you meant it as an insult or a compliment." Ron said slowly, "But I still want to bash your head into the table."

"And let's go to Charms now!" Harry stands up quickly, grabbing his bag and a last swig of his pumpkin juice. He kisses Ginny on the cheek and grabs Ron by the arm, dragging him up before him and Draco can rush at each other with their cutlery. "Coming, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nods to his posse and Pansy gives Seamus a flirty smirk goodbye. Blaise also gives a smirk to his conversational partner, only it's a rather threatening smirk and he leaves behind a frightened third year rather than a horny seventh.

"Were you threatening my housemate, Zabini?" Ron frowns.

"Never." Blaise swears. "Threats are beneath me."

"That doesn't sound as comforting as you probably intended." Hermione notes.

Blaise gives her a rather evil smirk that sends Pansy into giggle fits.

* * *

"Blaise?"

First name basis. A very bad sign.

"May I ask you something?"

Hermione Granger sliced the mandrake root on her cutting board with frightening precision, completely detached from the conversational tone of her voice. On first name basis. If Blaise were any lesser of a person he would whip out his wand and go running out the classroom. But not only was he arguably one of the smartest of Slytherins, he was, at times, one of the bravest. That was where the word 'arguably' came in. And maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, Blaise choosing her as his lab partner. Well, it wasn't so much his choice as Draco's insistence. To integrate themselves further into the throng of do-goody Gryffindors, he said.

Draco had given Hermione a rather nasty shove with his hip when she hadn't yet realized his tactic and had the nerve to try and sit at her usual potions spot besides Harry. And instead of blowing up a huff like Blaise _knew _the girl would (after all, only she had the nerve, lung capacity, and vocabulary to do so,) he pulled her into the seat beside her.

"Ask away, _Granger_." He emphasizes. They were not on a first name basis, and would not be any time in the near future.

"Gregory."

"Yes, that is his name."

"He hasn't been eating, the times that I've seen him." She starts out, at a slow pace compared to her usual words per minute, "And he doesn't talk. Well, I've never heard him speak a full sentence in my life, actually. But now it seems as if grunts are beneath him, also."

He looks at her for a long time, until she's stopped slicing mandrake roots and the water has reached exact boiling point. He pauses in his stare to sprinkle in the essence of murtlap. She begins to feel a little awkward, and Blaise waits another few seconds before he speaks.

"He's faring well, all things considered."

"Oh, right. That sounded terribly insensitive of me. I didn't mean to belittle what happened, you know. I just meant, well, is he doing better? All things considered."

How wonderfully compassionate and Gryffindor of her. It almost surprised him. Almost.

"Considering? He's terrific."

* * *

"I think I might be surprised, Potter."

"What, Malfoy?" Harry sighs. Draco was being very vague and _annoying _today. He was always annoying, of course. He was just usually very specific about what annoyed him and, in turn, annoyed Harry about it. He cuts through the mandrake a slight bit harsher than he intended, tearing rather than slicing. Mandrakes were disgusting, anyway. In Diagon Alley, he was ambushed by this woman with a pamphlet that said our dependency on mandrake roots actually fueled the deaths of men by hanging.

Why? he asked. What did mandrakes have to do with dead men? And then the pamphlet called him an ignorant trollop and explained, in detail, the origin of the mandrake root.

"Never mind, you've regressed yet again. I thought you were finally competent at potions for the first time in your life. What the hell did you do to those roots? Mangle them? It's insane, how you managed into Advanced Potions."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Oh, so we're back to this again, are we. The not-so-intelligent insults, the maiming of potions supplies, are we going to end at wandpoint or fists? I'm personally all for wands. More sophisticated. A tact you're severely lacking right about now."

"I'm not going to be drawing wands if you shut _up_, Malfoy." He shook his head, "Honestly."

"Oh? What is this? Taking a higher road?" Draco is actually surprised. Goading was usually effortless once he was in close proximity with Harry. And now Harry is suddenly the bigger person? Well, he always was in every way except for height. Short little thing. And his fuse was supposed to be just as short. Probably related to his overwhelming moral superiority in some way.

"You're the one that wanted my help, Malfoy." Harry hissed, "So excuse me for trying to be a good person and attempt not to blow up on you."

"Oh, you're such a good person, Potter." Draco drawls, waiting for the water to reach exact boiling temperature. Three degrees more and it would be perfect.

"_Malfoy_." Harry warns.

"No, really. I mean, saving the world was just small-time stuff, you know. The man makes the hero and all that rubbish."

"Do you get off on being a prick?"

"I don't believe so, no. After all, my being a prick is such a frequent happening. I would be completely exhausted by now, wouldn't I?"

"Thank you for taking that literally. Really. Appreciate it loads."

"I'm a very literal person." Draco nods. He adds the murtlap and then uncorks the newt eyes to let the pungent smell waft into the cauldron. The potion ingredients would blend together better if the newts were introduced earlier on. Their eyes were something to be shocked by, and it was better to just ease them in slowly, "That was a lie, actually."

"I'm glad that you admit that, then. Mind stop taking the piss out of me then?"

"I will do no such thing! That sounds disgusting!" He exclaimed loudly, attracting a few stares.

"It's a saying, Malfoy." Harry chuckled. At _him._ Draco Malfoy.

"And what is it supposed to be saying?" Draco asked, disgusted, while giving Harry a nod to inform him that it was time to dump the mandrake root into the cauldron a _little _bit less like the barbarian him and Weasley were used to acting as.

"Just, you know. What you do. Mock, annoy, all that."

"And apparently steal your piss."

"It's an _expression_. I'm not asking you to take _anything_. _Especially_ any piss that I might have in the near future."

"Good." He says, and Harry thinks he looks slightly like a child, "Because even if you did, I wouldn't."

"Well, that's good. I don't think either of us are really interested in the taking or giving of anything like that."

"Good then. We're in agreement."

"I don't think it was ever even a dispute, really."

"Good."

"Good."

"Good!"

"I think you're supposed to do it now."

"What!?" Draco asks, confused and a little horrified.

"The eyes. Your hand is starting to get a little red from hovering it over a boiling cauldron."

"Right." Three, two, one. And in they go. Perfect.

Eat that, Granger.

"And all your potions should be ready in about ten minutes!" Professor Slughorn announced, "If you're on schedule, of course." He gave Harry a creepy little wink. "Seating chart a little different today, isn't it? Wonderful, wonderful."

Slughorn was probably just happy that his house was hopefully going to have a slightly better reputation. Hermione rolled her eyes in result of her inability to whisper the snide yet accurate remark in Harry's ear. Blaise wouldn't appreciate an insult like that. Which was most likely a good thing. Maybe being in close quarters with Slytherins would be a nice lesson for her. It would help her be more sensitive towards all groups. Even the rich upper class that she spent the better part of her life hating. Hate was a very bad thing to have, now that the war was over, and would only hinder her in the long run unless she learned to deal with it properly.

Blaise internally rolled his eyes at the cheery hopeful _Gryffindor _look that borderlined on Hufflepuff that Hermione gave him. Really, he would much rather deal with conniving selfish two-dimensional nitwits. Because then, when they served their own agenda, they didn't do it under the disguise of kindness. Well, sometimes they did, but then you could respect it, because honestly they couldn't care if you lived or died. Hermione tried to convince herself that her heart was made of gold and sparkly sunshine.

And it disgusted him.

﻿﻿﻿Author's Note: Blaise is a bit of a cynical bitch, isn't he? Hopefully he won't be just another Malfoy-type. I get a bit annoyed with him when he's competing with Malfoy for the Slytherin throne and the two are like little personality clones. Maybe I've just seen it too many times.


	4. Chapter 4

"That was painful." Blaise sighs, collapsing onto the couch in their common room.

"Merlin, yes." Pansy gushes, collapsing right next to him. Gregory doesn't voice a complaint, but lets out a little sigh to show how trying the day was for him.

"Have some strength." Draco sneers and makes his home on the armchair beside them, "Honestly, it's been only a day."

"And now we have to endure a whole year of them." Pansy shudders, "Maybe more, if all goes... well."

"We all have to make sacrifices, Pansy darling." Draco drones, a bit sarcastically, waving his hand to dismiss her complaints.

"Some of us more than others, though." Blaise says, a bit of accusation in his eyes as he stares at Draco.

"Your subtlety is overwhelming, Blaise." Draco rolls his eyes. "Are you implying what I believe you are?"

"I believe you know exactly what I'm saying. For all your loathing of them, you're undeniably comfortable in their presence. And it was, undoubtedly, your idea to befriend them."

"And other than a few verbal spats, what wrong has been done to us since I came up with the idea to befriend them?"

"Irrelevant when compared to the remarkable ease in which you both thought up and acted out that brilliant plan of yours."

"You have self control as well as I. If I am able to employ it in a more believable fashion than you are accustomed to, Blaise, then I really am surprised." He smirks, "I thought you were raised better than that."

The moment of truth. Either Blaise could be horribly insulted by Draco's attack on his self control, something Slytherins prided themselves upon, and tear the house apart in a contest of loyalties, or something entirely unexpected could happen and Draco would be forced to improvise.

"Draco," Blaise laughs, "You are perhaps the most amusing person in this school. More than those Gryffindor fools could ever hope to be."

"I apologize if I don't find that much of a compliment." His eyes narrow. He'd much rather be fighting, even the barbaric muggle way, than made a fool out of.

"Gregory," Pansy whispers jokingly, "Mummy and daddy are fighting again."

"I've known you for a long time," Blaise explains, "And for that I know just how little self control you have. It was always that little rebellious streak in you, Draco. Luckily, your self preservation and reputation allowed you thus far."

"I'd hold my tongue, Blaise. Once we go down that road, giving our own_ opinions_ and such, we find that we aren't all evil manipulative carbon copies of each other like the school thinks of us."

"I'm only being honest, Draco." Blaise smiles patronizingly and Draco has an urge to curse it off.

"And that is the most useless offer you've had this year." Draco responds with a cruel smile to match Blaise's.

"Draco darling, if I might interject," Draco rose an eyebrow at the girl, "This brilliant plan you've had, while ensuring our physical well-being... If we do not show how trying it is in our common rooms,"

Her body language suggested that she was exhausted, though her eyes were sharp and the privacy charm ensured that their fellow Slytherins could not hear a word they were really saying, "There might be talk from the younger students."

"Talk of what?" Draco would have snorted if it weren't so undignified, "How we befriended the single most powerful political figure in this school, much less the entire British wizarding population? It'll be talk of envy disguised with barely contained insults of how we betrayed them. We have refused to change our ways for the public before," His tone adopted something much more cold than the playful snootiness they were accustomed to, or even the flustered anger usually brought on by someone's insulting of his family. This was his only hint of the scars he had acquired from the war, and the others would have been wary of it if they did not have that same cold, dark place inside them as well, "And our families and reputation have suffered for it. Merlin, even our family vaults have suffered, the ministry seizing our property with it's greedy fingers, searching for dark artifacts and snatching whatever they see as profitable and_ getting away with it_."

A moment of silence passed before Blaise finally decided to break the silence.

"An accurate summary of our lives, though incredibly useless seeing as everyone present to hear your little rant hasn't already seethed about it on their own time. I thank you for the effort, at least, even though the intended motivational speech was altogether a waste of our time." Blaise sighed.

Draco sent him a sneer.

If he were any less of a man, he would pout.

Instead, he chose to challenge him.

"How about a game of chess, then? To pass the time until our next bout of torture."

* * *

"Harry, when are you going to realize you hate the Slytherins just as much as the rest of us?" Ron asks after they've settled into a game of Wizard Chess.

Hermione is cuddled up with Crookshanks on one of the sofa, a large book rested on her lap, and yet Harry knows that she is interested in the conversation now that it isn't about Quidditch anymore. Her eyes have moved as if reading page after page, and yet she hasn't moved a finger to turn any.

Ron kills Harry's pawn by caving his head in with his knight's hooves.

Harry grimaces.

"When they do something to make me hate them, I reckon." Harry shrugs, and moves his other pawn two spaces. They could only move like that once, and Harry hated wasting opportunities.

Ron's bishop came barreling at the pawn and killed it with no little amount of enthusiasm.

"They've already done that, mate. You've just chosen to forget about it."

Harry's the one frowning now, and he sends his rook to bash the bishop's face in.

"I haven't forgotten _anything, _Ron." He still sees Draco's smirk and his mind flashes back to times when he'd want to jump the boy and start pummeling his face in. He still gets those urges, when Draco talks just a _little _too much, and if he were younger and angrier, he would act on them. But they were just feelings. Not instincts, something he took a lot more seriously, and he had finally learned to tell the two apart.

Feelings caused the Cho Chan disaster, Cedric Diggory's death, Sirius Black's death, and almost everything bad that went wrong in his life. Instinct had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he trusted it a great deal more. And his instincts told him that the Slytherins deserved his help just as much Luna would if she were being harassed again by her fellow Ravenclaws. Only instead of one house turning on one of their own, it was the entire school against a group of people. And while he might have argued about it in the past, they didn't deserve that any more than he did.

"I just don't think that we should hate them for something they couldn't control, just like they shouldn't hate us for what we can't control."

"But they _do, _Harry. That's the point." Ron argued.

"What insult have they thrown at Hermione this year, Ron? If they're trying, shouldn't we?"

"They're not trying! They're just biding their time until they strike!"

"Strike what, Ron? The war is over! If they strike anything, who's going to be on their side? They're Slytherin, not stupid." And, while he would have thought so in the past, the two were not synonymous with each other.

"What makes you so sure?" Ron asks, still frowning, but sounding a little less ready to jump at the Slytherins, wand blazing as bright as his hair.

"Everyone deserves a second chance." Harry shrugs. Or, in Ron's case, a continuous stream of chances handed to him again and again. But he wouldn't bring that up.

It was as if all of Harry's fighting spirit had died with Voldemort, and all that was left of him was his need to help people. And so he'd cling to it until he had nothing left.

* * *

Later that evening, after a supper filled with falsely laid back conversation and gazes that were too relaxed to have any sense of real emotion in them, Draco walked off into the night at a brisk pace, avoiding Mrs. Norris and her owner with a skill gained from seven odd years of sneaking around after Potter and creeping around his own house for the better part of last year, hoping nobody noticed him enough to engage him in conversation, drag him to the dungeon, force him to torture prisoners..

Draco shook his head.

He had a _purpose, _damn it.

"Potter." Draco announced coldly, and Harry turned with a smile on his face.

"Malfoy. Come to interrupt my peace again?"

"Sadly. I should be careful--it might become a habit."

Was Draco... joking around? He should be cutting him down with his words, and instead Harry was _laughing_. This simply would not do.

"Your hair is horrid."

Harry blinked.

"Yes, I know. It's untameable."

Draco sniffed and sat down next to him, making sure to keep a safe distance.

"And your clothes look as if they were stretched out by a troll."

"Yeah. They're my cousin's." Harry pulled at the baggy shirt and shrugged, as if he couldn't do anything about it.

"Is your cousin dead?"

"Pardon?"

"Is your cousin dead?" He repeated, slow enough that even a giant would be able to understand him.

"No, I heard you. I was just wondering what you meant by that."

"I was wondering if it was a Gryffindor custom. To wear the clothes of the dead, no matter how disgusting the wardrobe may be. Did he die from horrible obesity?"

"No, he's alive. I just don't have any other clothes, I suppose." Harry shrugged, before sparing Draco a glance.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?"

Draco could make out hands touching his shoulders, shaking him out of his stupor.

"Those horrible clothes... Are the only ones you _own_?"

"Well, I have those dress robes I wore to the Yule Ball. And Mrs. Weasley knits me all sorts of things--"

"Stop talking, Potter, before I empty my dinner all over your disgusting clothes. On second thought, I just might. Merlin knows it wouldn't make much a difference."

Harry looked at Draco warningly. No one would be puking on anybody this evening.

"Don't you know how to purchase clothing?" Draco asked, "I'm sure your parents must have left you a small enough sum of money that you can cover yourself up with something other than that disgusting shite you're calling clothing."

"Money isn't the problem." Harry warned.

"Oh, I get it." Draco nodded understandably, "You're poorer than the Weasleys, aren't you? You don't have to be ashamed of yourself. In fact, a hero coming from humble beginnings will be eaten up by the press. I know--we'll get a designer to sponsor you. You'll have free clothing, and they'll have free publicity. I'm a genius."

"I _said _that money wasn't the problem. And don't use the Weasley's as your default standard of poverty. I've just never felt the need to buy new clothes. That's all."

Draco blinked.

"Never?"

"Never."

"Are you _positive_? If I were forced to wear something as horrid, I would curse incinerate it on the spot. I'd rather wear the rags that house elves use to protect their modesty."

"Malfoy! That's indecent!"

"I said my modesty would be protected." Draco argued, before shaking his head, "You are purchasing a new wardrobe, Potter. I do not give a _rat's arse _if you are the savior of the Wizarding World. I refuse to be seen on the street with such an ill-dressed slob."

"_Slob_?"

"A man without a clean image is not a man worth knowing." He quoted from his father. He would never be able to properly acknowledge the Boy-Who-Lived until the Boy-Who-Lived dressed to match the legend he was.

"Malfoy--" Harry started, before running a hand through his hair and mussing it up further, "I don't care. Honest. I'm sure growing up in a house with as many luxuries as you have, your image is... well... Everything. But I don't _care_. I'm not _like _you."

Draco was shocked.

"Well, that's a given." Draco sputtered. Honestly, he never met anyone who just didn't _care _about what they wore. Was it because Harry didn't know what it _felt _like to wear nice, clean, form-fitting clothes, much less how to dress as well as Draco did? "Next weekend is a Hogsmeade trip. I think that's enough preparation time for-"

"No, Malfoy." Harry warned.

"Yes, Potter. We will get you a presentable wardrobe if I have to drag you by your horrible hair at wandpoint to every bloody store in the shopping district." Draco sneered, countered by a scoff from Harry.

"You're welcome to bloody _try_."

They both grinned at each other fiercely.

* * *

Harry resisted the urge to slam the common room door shut as he seethed. He sat on the red couch with a huff to avoid stomping up to the boy's rooms and making a big fuss and convincing Ron that he really did hate the Slytherins and they should start cursing them _right this very second_.

Although he would enjoy cursing Draco immensely.

What right did Draco have to try and change him? Even worse--to try and change his _image. _The public had done enough, judging every action he took and criticizing it for all the world to read. He didn't need Draco to criticize him, either.

Besides, Dudley's clothes were comfortable.

Although they were a little worse for wear. Running around in whatever adventures he frequently got himself into had caused some tears in quite a few clothes; and if he was honest with himself, the only thing that was holding most of his clothes together was magic.

So maybe he did need some new clothes.

But hell if he was going shopping with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco snuck into the common room, barely containing his anger enough not to make a sound.

He thought he was going to be rude to Harry and show him how much he was loathing their shared company. To prove that he did not enjoy his time spent with Harry at all and that this was only for his greater good that Draco was deeming him worthy enough of his presence in the first place.

And instead, now he was going to take the Boy Who Lived _shopping?_

No, it wasn't like that. Draco was being the better person and taking pity on the Boy Who Was Too Stupid To Just _Die. _He wasn't enjoying his company. He was using Harry as a charity case to feel better about himself.

That was it.

And maybe if he was lucky, he'd get to be the one to incinerate those horrid clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

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"They kidnapped Harry!"

The voice belonged to Ron, of course. He always had that knack for making abrupt and life-altering statements, and his dramatic entrance caused a hush to go through the Three Broomsticks, both out of fear for Harry and a curiosity to see how Ginny and Hermione would react. Because there wasn't a soul in the pub who didn't know who Ron was, who he was talking to, and who he was talking about.

"What?!" Ginny shrieked. The butterbeer in her hand dropped onto the table and spilled onto her skirt, but she didn't appear to notice. Instead she glared at Ron accusingly, as if it were his fault that Harry was gone.

"Who?" Hermione asked sharply, her war instincts kicking in with the speed of some of the best seekers as her wand whipped out. She wordlessly banished the mess that Ginny made, but didn't bother to pocket her wand once she was done with it. She would most likely need to use it soon, if Ron wasn't being an idiot.

She fought to keep her mind clear and rational, ignoring all of the paranoid fears that plagued her during the search for the horcruxes--the nightmares that she managed to keep hidden as best she could from the Chosen One who had seen things far worse than she ever did, and had nightmares filled with much more horrors than she could imagine. But now the little whispers were back, stronger than ever, _they weren't going to make it, everyone is going to die--_

"Malfoy!"

"Malfoy... kidnapped Harry." Hermione pocketed her wand with a sigh. Ron, despite being a genius of chess, really was an idiot when it came to people. She shoved her war-induced paranoia to the back of her mind where it belonged and forced herself to relax.

"Yeah! Just took him--_petrified _him even! Said something about his clothes and disappeared with a cackling Parkinson!" Ron's voice dropped to a stage whisper, and everyone in the pub strained their ears to hear what he said, "I think they might... _do_ things to him."

Hermione grasped for some way to adequately respond to Ron's worries, giving Neville, Dean, and Seamus enough time to crash through the door of the respectable establishment and join them in all the drama.

"Don't... panic..." Neville wheezed, before collapsing on the ground next to the table, missing a chair just by a few inches. He was too exhausted to get back up and try again.

"Bastard athlete runs like a feckin' animal." Seamus didn't miss his chair, but grew limp all the same, "Blond git isn't gonna do anything to Harry. Just get rid of those rags he calls clothes." Seamus waved his hand around through the air to show how little of a deal it was, and Parvati at the next table over breathed a long sigh of relief. Chatter that Hermione hadn't even realized had stopped resumed now that all was right in the world.

"Ronald Billius Weasley, you bloody idiot!" Ginny threw her empty glass at Ron's head, which he caught, thanks to his Quidditch reflexes. Hermione noticed Ginny was shaking, but let it go with the realization that she was shaking too.

"Watch your tongue now, you!" Ron yelled back at his sister, his tone mimicking their mother.

She gave a disbelieving snort and glared.

"If you ever make me needlessly _worry _like that _again, _Ronald Billius Weasley, I _swear to God—_" Hermione cut herself off in an attempt to calm down. She breathed in deeply and allowed room for someone else to speak. Everyone knew that in real life everyone took turns to speak.

"Thank Merlin!" Lavender exclaimed, "I thought he would wear those awful clothes for another seven years!"

"That shirt he wore today," Parvati commented, "I think it's the same one he wore to his sorting."

"I shudder at the thought." Lavender actually shuddered before clapping excitedly, "And it's _Draco Malfoy _who's picking out his new wardrobe."

".... Okay?" Dean asked warily. He wasn't aware that Draco Malfoy had hit celebrity status.

"He's _only_ the best dressed student walking the halls of Hogwarts." Parvati said, the know-it-all tone eerily resembling Hermione's.

"They took it to a vote." Hermione sighed.

"Harry was worst dressed." Lavender said sadly before perking up, "Although most attractive."

"Imagine what he'll look like with clothes that were _tailored_ to him!"

Ginny refused to comment on her beloved's fashion choices, or how attractive he was. But she was as thankful as the rest of them for his impromptu and unwilling shopping spree.

"Man, I wish I could help him get dressed." Seamus sighed wistfully, and the girls sighed with him.

She _accio_'d the empty glass Ron was still holding and threw it at the horny Irishman's head.

* * *

"How about this one?" Draco asked, holding up a bulky black cloak to Harry's chest.

"It's a robe." Harry shrugged. "They're pretty much all the same."

"No, actually, you fashionably handicapped Neanderthal." Draco rolled his eyes, "It's a cloak. Not a robe. And the two are completely different, which is why I wasn't asking _your _opinion on the matter."

"Well, it's my body you're treating like a Ken doll. I figure I have a say in what it's wearing."

"And it's my eyesight that's suffering the consequences of those previous choices." Draco snapped, ignoring the Ken doll reference. It was probably some muggle atrocity.

"Boys." Pansy said harshly, rolling her eyes slightly. They were like those aggressive couples that made you want to puke less than those sappy lovey dovey couples, but in the end still evoked nausea.

"The cloak is too bulky for him. A man of his height is only swallowed by such a thing."

"You're right." Draco sighs.

Harry shoves the cloak away from him and glares. He is not _short._

"Potter should stick to modern styles. Regretfully, his image has not matured enough to successfully pull off traditional wizarding fashion."

"Not mature enough?" Harry was surprised that he was surprised by Draco's insult.

"At the very least, you're not _tall _enough." Draco sneered.

"Sometimes its unbelievable how completely filled to the _brim_ you are with shi-"

"Boys!" Pansy snapped in a harsh whisper, "I will not tolerate profanity while at an established business place. Do you hear me?"

"Always, Pansy darling." Draco smiled bitterly, his eyes promising revenge for the embarrassment of her scolding him.

"Sorry." Harry muttered. This was what having a mother felt like, he knew it. One look and he felt red-faced and ashamed of himself. Just like whenever he disappointed Mrs. Weasley. The fact that it was a seventeen year old girl making him feel like a scolded child was irrelevant.

"Now, we will acquire one cloak here," She held up a dark forest green cloak, so dark it was almost black, and Draco reluctantly nodded his approval, "And then we'll go to that place around the corner; the one with the muggle influence."

Draco reluctantly approved of that, too.

"Ooh, this is shimmery and nice."

Draco did not approve of Pansy's tendency to get distracted.

"What if we paired these robes with that cloak? He'll look, dare I say, dashing!"

The robes in question came in all different colors, and were made from extremely thin material. It was very high class. Harry would probably never wear it without Draco forcing him.

"Let's get this gold one."

"And that green one right there."

"Maybe a silver one?"

"No. The tan one, maybe."

"White?"

"No."

"Pink?" Pansy giggles.

"Hmm." Draco looked thoughtful while trying not to laugh.

"No." Harry insisted with a hint of a growl. Too much time spent with the monsters in the Forbidden Forest, Draco supposed.

"Fine." Pansy shrugged, "Your loss. This purple would do nicely, though."

"Just these then?" Harry asked, and Draco nodded to the clerk, inadvertently answering Harry's question as the clerk gathered up the clothes Pansy held.

"That'll be seven hundred and eighty galleons and seven knuts." The clerk smiled pleasantly.

For five flimsy articles of clothing.

Eight hundred galleons.

The last time he spent an average of a hundred and fifty galleons per item, it was Christmas. He bought Hermione a collection of rare, ancient books that she had been subtly eying for months, and Ron a chess set made of _pure magic_.

"Do I have to pay for you?" Draco asked with a self-suffering sigh.

"No." Harry shook his head and took out his endless bag of coins. He thought of the required amount, but then paused as his bag got about twenty times heavier. How would he give the clerk that much money without flooding the counter?

"Honestly, Potter. Do you even know what a draft is?" Draco rolled his eyes and flicked his wand, a slip of paper flying out of Harry's bag that he snatched out of the air, careful not to crumple. A blank cheque. "Are you a wizard or not? It's not as if you're even doing anything particularly difficult."

Harry's face went red, and he shot a glare at Draco.

The clerk was not so impressed with the boy, but smiled a shite-eating grin anyways. If the savior of the wizarding world were a regular customer, his business would soar to entirely new heights.

"How do you think he would look in a collared shirt?" Pansy asked Draco, looking as excited as she could in a public setting.

"It might help."

Harry's eye twitched, but smiled and thanked the man when he handed him his bags.

"Come again soon."

Harry smiled again.

Not on his life.

* * *

"Potter, stop attempting to pick up clothes that have no chance of fitting you whatsoever."

"They fit! It's called wearing _comfortable_ things."

"Comfort? You honestly believe overgrown parachutes worn on a daily basis to be _comfortable?_"

"Stuff it, Malfoy! It's a lot better than wearing shirts small enough for _toddlers_!"

"Just because you are not accustomed to clothing that fit you better than the flour sacks that house elves don themselves with doesn't mean-"

"Oh you would know about fitting your abused slaves with-"

"Why don't you just fish out a book of quotes that Granger has likely already engrained into your-"

"What, so just because I'm not as outspoken doesn't mean that I can't have an opinion on what you all-"

"'You all'? And who on Earth are you referring to, Potter? _Wizards_? Or us evil purebloods who want to uphold the tradition that '_you all' _seek to stomp over with your large brutish feet-"

"So we're all just Neanderthals and you're the height of all the decadent little poncey-"

"Will the two of you just _be quiet_!? We are in _public_. We will _not _bicker like quarreling children."

Quiet washed over the group, an ashamed Harry muttering another 'sorry' while the two boys still stewed in their anger with each other.

Finally, they went back to their shopping. Well, Pansy and Draco did. Harry just looked around, feeling out of place. He had already attempted to pat down his unruly hair, but deemed it an impossible task and let it be.

Draco attempted to hold up another shirt to him, but Harry grabbed his hands to halt the process. Really, he was getting sick of this.

"Mordred, Potter, your skin is like dragon hide. Do you bathe in thorn bushes?" Draco snapped, annoyed that Harry was resisting his help so much. Help that the boy so desperately needed.

"We don't all have delicate rose-petal hands like you, Malfoy. Some of us can't afford the time for such decadence."

"Personal hygiene is not something one should have such difficulties with. Although with that monster on your head _must _keep you occupied."

"For the _thousandth time, _my hair isn't a _monster_—"

"How about this shirt?" Draco attempted to cut Harry off, bored with his constant defending of the nest on his hair.

"V-neck? Really, darling?" Pansy scrutinized.

"—Just because it's a bit unruly at times doesn't mean that it's really all that bad—"

"Yes, Pansy, really—it's a mild cut. Not nearly as indecent as the gaping necklines you so enjoy parading around the house."

"I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with the way this conversation is going."

Harry's face didn't resemble the faint, flabbergasted expression that was expected of bystanders to Pansy and Draco's arguments. But he still had traces of the all-familiar wariness in his voice that made Draco roll his eyes. Gryffindors were, at times, just as prudish as Hufflepuffs.

"Overexposure to your adoring fans must've made you forgotten, Potter. No one cares what you think. So just keep standing there and looking pretty." Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry spent the next few moments gaping at Draco.

"Shall I start a room?" A salesman asked, coming up to them and sneaking glances at _the _Harry Potter.

"Yes, yes." Draco waved his hand, dismissing the man.

"These trousers would look good." Pansy held up a pair against Harry, and he felt even less comfortable than before. But there was no use fighting it. They were unstoppable when it came to clothing and decadence and the like. If the two were as persistent in their efforts during the war, Harry doubted he would still be alive right now.

"The material is one a homeless man would find comfort in." Draco sneered.

"We're not creating your _twin, _Draco. His image is rough—just look at the tangled nest on his head. Any attempt to disguise that roughness would end up with him looking... well, like a fool. Besides, I always thought casual robes and denim gave off a rugged air. He might even look _dangerous_."

Pansy gave a predatory grin, and Harry thanked Merlin that at least he had seventeen relatively Pansy-free years until now.

"Fine. Just... stop talking. Add that to the room." Draco sighed at the salesman. "This jacket, too."

"Oh, that _is _a nice find."

"Are we going to finish anytime soon? I wanted to see how George and Lee were doing at the shop."

"Stop whining like a petulant child, Potter. Now go try the clothes on. Wear the homeless pants first to get them out of the way."

"As in to ensure your first item bought." Pansy countered with a vicious little smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. It's not as if the clothes would kill him.

And the jacket did look a little cool.

* * *

"We are miracle workers."

"That's it. I'm a genius. I knew it already, but this just proves me right once more."

"He looks like, Salazar, it's as if he's _handsome_."

"Pansy, darling, I'm a _genius. _Of course he seems handsome."

"Are you all done yet?"

"No. We still have to burn all your old clothes."

"Oh, can I do that? Please? I haven't had a _good_ reason to burn something in _months._"

"Please don't let her near me with a wand."

"Potter, you act as if I can be kept away." Pansy laughed, "Now let's get you to your girlfriend."

"I am sure the Weaslette will stop clawing her eyes out once she sees the improved you." Draco let out a vicious little smirk that Harry rolled his eyes at.

He pulled at the jacket, expecting it to be uncomfortable, but was surprised, as he had been for the past hour, that the clothes fit him okay. From how Ron acted, he figured that formal clothes were stuffy and hard to move in. It would certainly explain why Lucius Malfoy was so angry all the time.

Then again, Voldemort wore nothing but a black robe, _singular, _that billowed dramatically in the wind, and he was angry pretty much all the time.

"I told you the V-Neck would work, Pansy."

"Oh quiet, you. The denim worked, too."

"Let's agree to disagree."

"I'm going to the joke shop." Harry announced, cutting short the lover's spat.

Draco's upper lip curled in disgust.

"I suppose that would be something you consider fun—visiting the Weasley business."

"What a coincidence, I need to get something from there." Pansy announced suddenly.

"Pansy?" Draco was slightly startled. The two never publicly set foot in there before. They wore glamours and concealment charms and, once in a blue moon, illegally polyjuiced themselves into a wizarding nobody of a somewhat respectable background.

Pansy ignored him.

"Shall we leave then? Potter can visit his Weasleys, and I can run my errands."

"And I?" Draco folded his arms expectantly.

"Will do nothing of importance."

Draco scowled for a moment, before remembering that doing so could cause him to wrinkle.

Pansy was up to something.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was actually admitted into a hospital, which was an exciting new first for me. So most of my files are at my computer at home, but this was already saved on the website, so I figured I'd post it to at least keep the story going.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco was not stalking anyone.

Stalking was a crude form of stealth he had rid himself years ago. Stalking is what paranoid Golden Boys did whenever they believed fellow innocent students to be "up to no good" because they lacked tact. Most likely because they had an _invisibility cloak _as a crutch that allowed them to get sloppy.

Malfoys did not get jealous. No.

And Malfoys certainly did not _stalk _anyone.

Malfoys _prowled, _assuming the role of a predator getting ready to strike.

His target was, unfortunately _for her_, Pansy Parkinson.

Draco was staying at a strategic distance, _observing _going-ons of his lifelong friend, because said friend was keeping something from him and Malfoys were always in the know about everything. It's what made them so dangerous.

And his target was publicly buying from a joke shop. Certainly, her pureblood feminine standards had dropped significantly since the war. Even Draco Malfoy had worn a glamor when he sought the need of a few necessary... items.

Harry was up in a corner somewhere laughing while the Weasley and the replacement Weasley entertained him, but Draco paid no mind to that. Pansy just picked up Canary Creams. One of the oldest products that the twins provided. She wasn't even bothering to hide her items.

He decided it an opportune moment to approach his target, and raised an eyebrow when she jumped at his presence like startled prey. They would have to work on that—Slytherins were not prey. Hufflepuffs were.

"Canary Creams, Pansy darling? I thought that you were above juvenile pranks."

She visibly relaxed, another thing they would have to work on, and let loose a vicious little smirk, the one the two had spent perfecting together when they were younger and thinking up malicious little plots to prank the house elves with, and he was glad that she had not vowed revenge on him lately.

"Whatever are you talking about, darling?" She asked, too innocent to convince him properly. They would have to work on that.

He cast a charm around them, so that anyone attempting to listen to them would only hear inane conversation of Charms homework.

"Canary Creams? I'm a little disappointed that such secrecy was used to hide from me something so boring."

"Oh please, Draco. This is not nearly as boring as how passionately you work to hide those useless manuscripts from all of us." The insult was a typical diversion tactic. A tempting one he would not allow himself to succumb to.

"Regardless, I'm slightly curious as to why _you_ thought it was so important. Anything special that you have planned for the most common and untraceable product in the school?"

"Nothing special." She shrugs, and makes her way to the register as Draco follows after, "Are you done with the interrogation?"

"Not nearly." Draco was just short of growling. Why did the girl insist on being so difficult?

Pansy gave Draco her 'I'm in the process of exacting revenge, so can we save this for some other time please?' look.

"Who insulted you and what's the plan, then?"

"I do not require your aid, Draco." Her look turned into a sneer.

"Wanting to know what you're getting into isn't helping, Pansy. In fact, I haven't even thought of offering." Women. So difficult.

"And I haven't thought of accepting in the slightest. Though I don't have anything dangling between my legs, that doesn't render me incapable of handling myself."

Oh, Pansy. You daft and prideful thing, you.

"What did they do?" He asked, sounding the most sensitive and calm in that moment than he ever did in all his eighteen years.

She glared.

He stared.

She glared some more.

He kept staring.

"They _looked _at me." She muttered finally, an angry hiss in her voice, "Bastards thought they could ruin me like they did and then _look _at me."

Draco was silent for a moment.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Pansy asked, slightly shocked at how easy he was giving it up. Usually Draco was the perfect picture of a nosy spoilt brat who would stop at nothing until he was involved with everything. Draco Malfoy never backed off of anything that didn't interfere with his self-preservation.

"This is your grudge. We thought that our revenge would be enough for you, but if you need more than that, I encourage your efforts. It makes you all the more Slytherin, and we do seem to be a dying breed these days."

"Oh Draco, you flatter me. You can make your way to the hearts of the best of them, can't you."

"Just know that they'll never be able to replace you, Pansy dearest."

"The thought never even crossed my mind."

Across the store from the heartwarming moment, Harry was suffering. It was to be expected, really. One didn't make friends with Slytherins and not have the entire Weasley clan questioning his sanity. He could tell from the way George was studying him that he was thinking, 'Finally. Harry Potter has _really _gone off his rocker. And it's worse than the Daily Prophet could've ever imagined.'

"So I hear you've been canoodling with the Slytherins, Harry."

Harry looked carefully at George, trying to measure out whether this was a lighthearted question or a how-could-you-betray-us-all-Harry question. George seemed to be leaning towards the latter of the two unfortunately.

"Um, yes."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"With _Malfoy._"

"Yes."

A moment of silence followed.

"Why on Earth would you make nice with the snarky sod? Evil git, that one."

"Had a change of heart."

"Him or you? Not gonna see you blond and pasty next time you visit, right?"

"What? How would you even think of—no, we both just grew up a little bit. Besides, he's already lost almost everything."

"Almost isn't enough for me."

Harry sighed. It was so hard being the bigger person.

"I'm not expecting you to be nice to him, you know. I can barely tolerate him myself. Just let him be, yeah? For me?"

George was quiet for a long moment while Harry squirmed uncomfortably. Then George relaxed and laughed lightheartedly.

"Sure thing, Harry. Whatever you want." And then George left him with a pat on the back and a pile of free new products in his arms.

Okay then. That went better than expected.

* * *

"Merlin, Harry! You're bloody sex on legs!"

"Er, thanks Seamus."

"Way to make Harry uncomfortable after his torture session with Malfoy. Lay off, will you?"

"Thanks Ron. Hey Ginny, how's it… Ginny? You okay there?"

"You downright stunned the poor girl!"

"Give her a little breathing room. She'll be fine in a short bit."

"Have a pint, Harry, on me."

"Stop trying to get him drunk, Seamus."

"As if anyone could get drunk offa butterbeer. Where are the miracle workers, then? Gotta buy them a round, too."

"Er, we split up after I went to see how the shop was doing. Fancy some of their new products?"

"Ooh, what's this?"

"Wicked!"

"Look, this thing is like—and then it goes whoosh! I got to buy me some of these."

"Ooh."

"Aah."

"My, this is quite a pathetic sight."

"Malfoy!"

There was a collective jump of the group, and Neville started so much he fell onto the ground. The floors of the pub were becoming quite familiar to him.

"What was that you said?" Harry asked innocently.

"Oh, nothing." Draco said with twice the innocence in his demeanor, "Just saying hello."

"Great. Now you can get on then." Ginny sneered, once again regaining the ability to speak.

"Why on Earth would I do such a thing? Especially with the prospect of free drinks."

"How long were you listening?" Dean asked, a little bewildered.

"Long enough." Pansy sneered, sitting down and nodding towards the waitress.

"Well if our talk is so beneath your standards, why don't you just leave?" Ron sneered right back. "It's not as if _we _want to be hounded by you slimy-"

"Oh ha ha, Ron, you're so _funny_." Hermione clapped Ron hard on the back and made him choke on a bit of his drink, "Joking around like that. Since we're all on such _friendly terms_ and all."

She gave a warning glare to both Pansy and Ron.

"Right, right." Ron grumbled.

"Of course." Pansy sniffed, "We were all just having a laugh."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence at the table.

"Riight." Seamus dragged out, "So what've you got on them? Photographs? Some dastardly secret that one of 'em doesn't want getting out? It's Ron, isn't it. He looks like the type to do something stupid and incriminating."

Pansy smirked, "I haven't the faintest idea what on Earth you're going on about."

"And I don't quite believe you."

"Honestly it doesn't matter what you believe." Draco waved his hand, "As long as I still get the free drink for saving Potter from his own image."

"Of course, mate. He looks like a right _God_ now. One of those rogue devilish things you see on the telly looking like bloody sex on legs." Seamus grinned happily, "We've got our own sex God now."

"Who has a _girlfriend_." Ginny glared.

Pansy waved Ginny off, "Every idol has _something _their followers have to get past. In Potter's case, it's his lack of social skills and the girl-next-door on his arm. There has been far worse than that, I assure you."

Harry gave Pansy an odd look.

Author's Note: Sorry it took incredibly long for this addition. It's a mixture of writer's block and life.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was very uncomfortable.

Yes, he was no stranger to the whole school staring at him. One couldn't be in the Daily Prophet as much as he was and _not _get stared at every once in awhile. However, those stares were always filled with either awe or suspicion. He wasn't exactly used to people staring at him as if he had been grilled and thrown on the table for dinner.

Dennis Creevey had _fainted _upon seeing him.

So when McGonagall stood up gravely after speaking to a strange wizard in silver robes that came rushing in all urgent and whatnot, he was willing to bow down to her on the spot and kiss the tail-ends of her robes.

"A nundu has been set loose in the castle." McGonagal announced.

Hermione gripped Ron's arm almost painfully and Draco choked on his goblet. Pansy pounded on Draco's back a little painfully, and his face turned red.

Everyone else, excluding the majority of the Ravenclaw house and a few students scattered around the tables, just looked confused.

"Now, this is no cause for panic. Spells have already been set up around the castle to track it's movements and counteract it's toxic breath. We ask that all of you follow your prefects to your dorms. Except the Slytherin house; the nundu is currently circling the dungeons."

The Slytherins were heard mumbling angrily to themselves.

"So where are we meant to go then?" One of the younger, more outspoken Slytherins asked.

"The Gryffindor-"

"The bloody hell we will!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs, "Bloody hell woman!"

"As I was _saying_," She said sharply, honing in on Ron with a glare that quickly shut him up, "The Gryffindor house has been modified to fit both their house and the Slytherin house until other arrangements can be made."

If Dumbledore were still alive, Harry was sure his eyes would be twinkling madly right about now. A perfect chance to work on inter-house relationships.

Draco and Harry exchanged wary looks.

Everyone would be dead by sun-up.

* * *

"What's a mondue anyway? I mean, surely it can't be any worse than all that's been in Hogwarts before. I mean, not bad enough that we have to start bunking with _Slytherins_."

Draco slipped his wand out and cast a subtle tripping jinx, interrupting Ron mid-rant and forcing him flat on his face.

Harry helped him up while Hermione tutted beside him.

"A _nundu_, Ron, is an incredibly dangerous creature, native to East Africa. It's breath is toxic, it's size massive, and it's ability to travel silently... unnerving." Hermione shuddered and sent another paranoid glance at her surroundings. Everyone was on edge, travelling to the Gryffindor dorms.

"It takes hundreds of wizards to take one down." Draco added, "I suggest we just throw Potter at it, though. He has luck with that sort of thing, right?"

"It's a giant deadly panther, right?" Harry asked, remembering it from one of Hagrid's lectures. He had sounded too fond of the creature for Harry to be comfortable with one loose in the castle.

"Fond of wiping out entire villages with it's breath." Draco mumbled angrily, "And I thought Hogwarts was a deathtrap with Dumbledore holding the reins. Now we have a bloody _nundu_?" Draco sneered at Harry, "Though you could probably look in its direction and it would keel over. You have luck with hopeless situations, right?"

"I don't really think-"

"Better yet, _befriend _the damn thing. Black hair, green eyes, awful breath, and an ability to defeat large groups of capable wizards. A long lost relative, perchance?"

"I _did _hear a rumor that the Potters had feral magic in their blood." Blaise mused, "Explains your wild hair, at least."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"That's just a rumor." Ron argued, "It doesn't mean anything."

"Wait, Ron, that's an actual rumor about my family?"

"Well, yeah. But you know how wizards are. They gossip about everyone's lineage."

"I heard, once, from my uncle Jerry." Dean said shakily, huddled close with Seamus, "He's one of those adventurer types. Everything he owns he made himself out of something he caught, and all his friends are adventurers and hunters. His friends were out hunting a panther. A whole gang of four or five people, all trained since they were born. All of them found dead with their throats torn out."

"Atleast wait until we're safe in the dorms before you freak us all out with stories, Dean." Ginny snapped fearfully, inching closer to her boyfriend for comfort. Pansy snorted softly at Ginny's dependency, refusing to acknowledge her deathgrip on Blaise's wrist.

"Sorry." Dean muttered.

"Does anyone else think that this is a horror movie in the making?" Seamus joked, not really laughing at all.

"The fact that you recognized it probably means it won't be." Harry reassured, "No one in horror movies ever call the movie out on it."

Harry hadn't much experience with muggle movies. Were there even wizarding movies? Or just moving picture books. What he did know was that muggles in horror movies were painfully ignorant of their situation. And they were _painfully _aware.

* * *

"Oh dear Merlin no." Draco says, and Blaise tilts his head curiously. So much gold and crimson._ And tassels._

"We're sleeping _here?_" Pansy asks as her lips curl in disgust.

"If it doesn't suit your tastes, by all means find some other place to stay." Hermione says coolly, gesturing towards the entrance. There is a silver robed wizard standing guard like those muggles in red. He does not move.

Ron runs downstairs, his face so pale his freckles stand out even though the lights are dimmed.

"There are extra beds in our room. Four. Extra. Beds."

"Oh." Harry says.

"That's all you have to say? _Oh? _Those slimy-"

"Ron! In private!" Hermione snaps, sparing a comforting smile for the trembling first years, before to a corner and casting a privacy curtain.

"So." Seamus dragged out, smiling at the Slytherins, "Anyone up for some Exploding Snap?"

"Merlin." Draco groaned. In a dignified manner, of course. Malfoys were never uncivilized creatures.

Ginny was off comforting the younger students, so Harry found himself hovering near Draco and evaluating the situation. Already, the students were curling up on couches rather than going up to their own dorms.

"This will either be the best or worst night to date for our houses." Harry says quietly, so the shivering first years can't hear his concerns.

"Which one are you leanings towards, optimistic Gryffindor?" Draco inquires, watching Blaise from the corner of his eye as he explored the Gryffindor common rooms as if it were some foreign land.

"I think... That I'm not going to be able to rest much tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

"Bollocks." Draco groaned.

That was the worst night of his life.

"Morning, Malfoy." Seamus nods, passing the rumpled blond on the way to the bathroom.

"Is is, isn't it. Bloody fuck, it's finally morning." He runs a hand through his hair, "What horrible beast was in the room last night? I slept horribly."

"What are you going on about?"

"That rumbling that kept me up all last night."

"He's talking about Ron." Dean informs Seamus, who has already gotten ready for the morning and is now tightening his ugly garish red and gold tie.

"Oh right, the snoring."

"_Oh right, the snoring_." Draco mimicked with a sneer, "Don't sound as if that ungodly sound continuing on for the better part of the night is something that can just be brushed aside. His _snoring_ managed to make it's way past my _silencing charms_."

"Sorry, man. We got used to him ages ago."

A yawn interrupted them. The ginger awoke.

"Mornin', mates. Shite, Draco, is that what you always look like in the morning? How many hours in the bathroom do you spend fixing that mess?"

Never let it be said that Draco wasn't provoked.

"Oh bugger!"

"Harry, wake up! Malfoy's killing Ron!"

"Yeah, wake up! Take off your shirt and I'll conjure up some chocolate syrup to douse everyone with!"

"Mmmphwut? Bloody-what's happening?"

"Ron snores." Seamus says, leaning against the doorframe and not moving in the slightest to break up the fight.

But then Vincent and Blaise wake up, and while Blaise laughs at the sight in front of him Vincent doesn't have the stomach for violence like he used to; one punch and the Weasley is out and his friend safe.

"Bloody hell!" Dean exclaims, and the conscious Gryffindors in the room go and tend to the lump growing on Ron's head.

Neville finally starts to wake up.

"Okay. I think we all need to calm down and back away from each other." Harry says mediatedly. Vincent is still hovering protectively in front of Draco, who is touching his fingers to his aches and pains to ensure none of his blood has been spilt. Blaise, as soon as the redhead fell to the floor unconscious, casually moved to Draco's side and had his hand hovering lazily over one of his pajama pockets, "Everyone just got a little carried away."

"That's the understatement of a century." Seamus remarks, "Malfoy went completely ballistic on Ron. And then Goyle _knocked him out_. In our own rooms! How rude is that, huh?"

"What's rude is the undignified manner in which that redheaded twot conducts himself." Draco sniffs haughtily, smoothing down hairs he imagined were sticking out, "That snoring buffoon had no right insulting my appearance when he constantly looks like he's crawled out of a trash bin starving for food like a malnourished animal. And that he's the _reason _for the cause of insult only gives me more reason-"

"Right. Let's go downstairs and see if it's safe to roam the halls yet. Merlin knows if we stay here we'll all end up killing each other."

"Sounds like a plan, Harry. You wanna wake Ron up then?"

* * *

When they get to the common rooms, Harry almost wishes he hadn't. Apparently Ron and Draco set the norm for the two houses, and students scattered across the room had cuts and bruises all over them. Hermione has her 'I'm very disappointed in all of you' face on, and is pointedly ignoring Ginny, who has scratches going down her cheek.

"You should see the other girl." Ginny replies to Harry's raised eyebrow.

"Another Weasley provoking Slytherins." Draco sighs, acting every bit the victim.

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"And this one with the mouth of a leprechaun." Those Irish creatures were both creative and crude.

"Ginny," Harry has gotten very good at ignoring Draco, "I thought we all were going to have a peacful night?"

"Why? It's not like Draco did. And if what I'm hearing is right, he beat up my brother!"

"Hey, your brother could have won." Seamus argues.

"I'm so sure." Ginny rolls her eyes.

Harry sighs, "Do you think they've found the panther yet?"

"If they have," Hermione reasons, "Don't you think they would've told us?"

Draco recognized that fiery look in Harry's eyes. He spoke Harry-eye fluently, and right now his eyes were saying, 'I'm bored. The adults are taking too long with this shite, and I'm thinking I could do it better.'

"Oh _hell _no." Draco says, grabbing an enchanted plate and Harry's elbow, dragging him over to one of the three empty sofa chairs Draco assumed were reserved for the Golden Trio and sitting in a chair he hoped was the Weasley's.

"What? Malfoy, what are you on?"

"You are sitting here and eating your breakfast. Not going off half-cocked after a panther-beast you don't know the first thing about."

"What? How did we even get to that point?"

"I saw your eyes." Draco sneers, "I knew what they were thinking even before you did."

Harry looked at Draco quizzically. Yes, he was feeling a little impatient and unproductive, but that didn't mean he was going to fly out wands blazing asking to get killed.

At least, not at that moment. Maybe after a few more hours had gone by.

"So you're not going to help me then?"

"...I'll think about whether or not I want to go on a suicide run."


	9. Chapter 9

Draco Malfoy could not believe he was being this stupid. He was being Gryffindor stupid-no, not even that. He was being _Golden Trio_ stupid. And he was hating himself right now.

Oh, if only his mother could see him now; she would pass out from the immense amounts of stupidity he was exuding with his every action. And after all that she had risked and sacrificed to ensure his safe passage into adulthood.

The last time he was this stupid, he was a first year and was utterly convinced that his godfather and favorite professor had an eating disorder. He spent weeks at a time stalking Professor Snape, staring at him during meals, and convincing everyone he had an unhealthy crush on his Godfather.

And he never did anything but take sips from his goblet.

He now knows that Severus considered eating in front of others a sign of weakness and humanity, and had taken his meals in his office.

He wished he had known that _before _the embarrassing Hufflepuff-worthy intervention.

He doesn't know why he just can't be a Slytherin. His exact words of stupidity were, 'Let's do this before my self preservation kicks in.'

Harry Potter was very convincing when having his acquaintances risk their lives for some harebrained scheme he thought up in the last five minutes prior to speaking to them. But considering his track record, Draco really shouldn't have been surprised in the slightest. Instead of being the Boy-Life-Crapped-On, he should've been the Boy-Destined-To-Be-A-Politician.

But if he knew how cramped it would be underneath the invisibility cloak, then he would've flat-out refused.

He was going to die. He knew it. Yes, Harry Potter was lucky as fuck. But was he more powerful than a hundred wizards? Was Draco willing to risk his life on Potter's luck?

"Too late to turn back now, Malfoy." Harry whispers and Draco has an urge to kick him in the butt. Or elbow the Weasley behind him, just because.

"So what exactly are you planning on doing, once you find the beast? Jam a wand up it's nose? Yes, I've heard that story." Ron pinches his back, "You _stupid_-"

Draco hears the sheathing of a sword.

"You're bloody kidding me." He sees the glimmer of the Gryffindor sword and shakes his head, "I don't even want to contemplate all the laws you've broken, procuring that sword. And I do _not _want to contemplate how we are going to utterly die from your horrible plan. Your boredom is not excuse enough for my death."

"Your presence here is completely unnecessary, Malfoy." Hermione comments, as if he cared for her opinion.

"You mean my common sense is unappreciated in this situation? Oh deary me, however will I survive."

"Quiet, the lot of you." Harry interrupts, "We're geting near it."

Oh great. Closer to their deaths. He peers over Harry's shoulder and looks at the enchanted map he's using to figure out where the Nundu is.

"Why on Earth couldn't you have just handed the map over to the authorities? And the sword? Bloody hell, you just live to make life complicated." His complaining was more of an angry hiss than anything.

"Shut _up, _Malfoy. It'll hear you." Ron pinches him again and Draco elbows him harshly.

"_Merlin, _Weasley, I know everyone wants to touch me all of the time but can you show some _restraint? __She _will be able to _smell _us and is probably already planning on carving us up with her sharp claws. Honestly, man, don't you know that it's only the females that venture away from their packs?"

"Sorry if I don't know all the intimate details concerning animals that are _never supposed to be in Britain._"

"Don't sound as if that bit's on me. I didn't bring her here. And this bubble charm probably isn't going to hold up against her poison breath. I am dying. For _no reason _whatsoever. And I blame it entirely on you, Malfoy."

"Me? Blame _me? _I'm the one who complained about you coming in the first place!"

"Dear _lord _yes you did." Hermione mutters, and Draco holds in a snort. The girl was endearing herself to him.

"Hey guys?" Harry whispers as he stops walking. Draco can feel Harry's sword hand moving, "Shut up."

Draco leans a bit to the left to look over Harry's shoulder, because he was so conveniently short, and feels his magic flare with panic. In front of them was the beast. A nundu, deceptively leopard shaped, it's yellow eyes glowing _avada kedavra _green where the pupils should be.

It's staring straight at them, and once Ron realizes what's happening he lets out this barely audible squeak that Draco would've laughed at under any other circumstance.

This was it. Even after surviving the war, he was going to die here. Now. Surrounded by Gryffindors.

Other than being able to live past this moment, if he had one wish...

He would wish only that the Weasley die first.

TBC

**Author's Note**: So fanfiction is working properly again! I've been trying to post this chapter for the longest time. I probably should have used that time to add to it and make sure there were no errors, but I was too frustrated with it.


	10. Chapter 10

_The **Nundu** is a giant mammal similar to a leopard that is native to East Africa. It moves silently, despite its "gigantic" size, and is considered by some to be the most dangerous creature alive. The breath of the Nundu is toxic and filled with disease. This alone can wipe out entire villages of people. The Nundu is extremely hard to subdue, and has never been defeated by less than around one hundred wizards working together._

* * *

Draco woke up cold, wet, and Merlin, he's going to die isn't he.

A groping hand reaches out for his, and he allows it once he remembers that the thing threatening their lives had paws rather than skinny, hairless fingers. Then he remembers who he was _with _before he blacked out and groans, despite how undignified it is. He grabs the hand in the universal "I'm alive, but not kicking" gesture and opens his eyes.

It's not only cold and wet, but pitchblack too.

"Draco?" The body of the hand asks, and it is Harry grabbing onto him, which is better than if the other two were there touching, "You awake?"

"I blame Weasley for this." Draco groaned, blinking and finding that his wand was still secure, muttering Latin until his eyes adjusted to the light. Way more affective than that stupid first-year _Lumos_, "Where's our attacker?"

"Right here." Draco does a doubletake and sees that the nundu is hovering over Harry, "Did you know nundus are telepathic?"

The nundu is nuzzling Harry and... purring? He can _hear _the magic coming off of the creature, and it rolls out of it in waves, lulling him back to sleep before he fights the drowsiness.

"Apparently so." He says dryly, because wizards were too busy being _terrorized _by them rather than having a bit of a mindchat with the animal.

"She just wanted to stop in for a visit."

"Just stopped for a cuppa, did she?" Draco is on the verge of hysterical.

Harry nods, "She wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"So she dragged us to..?"

"The Chamber."

"The what?"

"Of Secrets."

"I know _what _you're bloody talking about, I'm asking _how _the _bloody hell _we got here and why the bloody hell a nundu is nuzzling your bloody shoulder!"

"Oh. Well, you weren't very clear on that at all."

"And you haven't answered my questions yet." He nods sharply at the giant menacing creature nuzzling Harry's shoulder.

"He heard about me, apparently, and wanted to see me."

"And your Wonder Twins?"

"'Mione is making Ron help her get Basilisk samples. I decided to stay back and wait until you woke up."

"Basilisk? You mean those rumors were true?"

"Except the bit about me being an illegal animagus and clawing the Basilisk's eyes out myself."

"How did you really get out then?"

"Dumbledore's Pheonix flew down with the Sorting Hat that gave me the sword of Gryffindor, and then we all hung onto Fawkes as it flew us out."

"Yeah, and the rumors were _so _far-fetched." He says, on the verge of a panic attack. "And why is the nundu interested in a wizard?"

"Apparently Potters used to be some magic Panther-types or something. Distant cousins, before we decided to go human. Hermione says this changes everything about wizarding history, but..." He shrugs.

"Right. Panther-people. The Potters."

"She says she's been holding her breath long enough," Harry warns before laughing, "If I haven't managed it already," Harry sends Draco a wry grin, "I think it's safe to say that with this bit, I've officially jumped the shark."

"You've jumped the _what _now?"

Draco wakes up in the hospital wing.


	11. Chapter 11 and 12 are now combined

"Mr. Malfoy is awake."

Yes, Draco is perfectly aware of that, but does not know why they are. He deduces that they must have a monitor on him, since he hasn't even opened his eyes yet. He's a good little dark child, never giving an indication that he is awake until he's aware of his surroundings.

Cheap cotton on a hard bed.

He is either hospitalized or imprisoned.

He decides that now that he's been had, he might as well open his eyes, and makes out three very serious-looking fellows all staring at him. Regulation robes, stone-faces, they are aurors.

"Mr. Malfoy," The most serious looking one says, "We need you to tell us _exactly _what happened."

"The strangest thing ever." Draco says, inwardly laughing at how vague he sounds. The whole thing was too absurd to be anything but real, especially with Potter involved.

"Drakie!" A familiar screech rings out, and he is interrupted with a tall, pale, dark haired blur of estrogen and tears, jumping into the bed and curling into his lap, "You're awake! I thought Potter led you into certain _death!_ How could you be so _stupid!_"

"It's _Potter._" Blaise replies before he has a chance to, and he sends Blaise a glare while patting Pansy on the head. Merlin, she was so _weepy_. The thing had too many emotions for her own good.

"Excuse me," One of the auror says, "We have to question Mr. Malfoy on the events-"

"No you _do not." _Pansy snapped, "You already got the Granger and Weasel's version of things, so let the two go. The nundu was just sniffing them out and it's _gone _now. So let my Drakie," _her _Drakie? "rest, or my parents will sue the living daylights out of your entire industry until your creature-friendly organization is swimming in too much debt to lift a _wand _properly, much less hound a recovering patient."

"It's procedure-"

"Your procedure can wait until my patient has had sufficient rest." Madame Pomfrey sniffs, looking at Pansy with a sigh, "Already Miss Parkinson? You could have at least waited for me to check him over before pouncing on him."

"I don't know why you're surprised at all, after all these years." Blaise quips, and Madame Pomfrey carries on a conversation with him while checking over Draco for any injuries she couldn't see while he was unconscious.

Draco takes a few moments to go through everything that was said, and once he is fully awake decides to get answers.

"Where's Potter?"

"Still sleeping." Pansy waves her hands, "The lazy twat."

"Mm. I have the maddest recollection." The aurors leaned forward in interest, too afraid of anything in case they invoked the wrath of Pomfrey, "It _must _have been a hallucination of some sort. The nundu was _nuzzling _Potter as if it were his pet."

Pansy laughs, "Oh Drakie, you really _are _going mad."

The aurors look at each other, shake their heads, and then leave.

Draco is now bored, so after Madame Pomfrey is done with him and has disappeared into her office, he sits up and finds where Harry is resting. The devil always looks so bleeding _innocent, _especially when he is rendered unconscious. Draco blames the spectacles. Anyone in spectacles looks twice as innocent as they really are, and his are round and wiry things of evil. Draco holds up the offending things, and raises the frames up to his face, squinting at how the clear lines suddenly turned into a blurry mess.

Blind fool.

"Draco, darling?"

"Leave me, Pansy." Draco says melodramatically, "I am doomed to die of dreadful boredom."

"Fussy little priss." Blaise mutters, his voice so quiet that only Pansy is able to make out his words.

From the giggles Pansy is unable to hold in, Draco deduces that it is something _bad _and that Blaise should also be shunned from the hospital wing.

"This wing is no longer welcome to the likes of you." He sniffs, and goes back to his bed, throwing the curtains around him to block out the two.

The two leave, laughing.

"Are the aurors gone?" Harry asks, suddenly waking now that there was no one in the room but the two of them.

"Yes." Draco says slowly, opening his curtains to look at Harry suspiciously, "After I said what I remembered."

"Oh. You didn't tell them I was related to the nundu, right? I want to keep a little of my strangeness to myself."

"Oh, so that wasn't a dream then?"

"Of course it wasn't."

"So you really are that strange."

"The parts I can't control, yes, they tend to be a little peculiar." Harry looks at him a little warily, "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Draco rolls his eyes.

"I gave up on any normality you had when I saw you talking to that snake in second year, Potter. And I welcomed it once it enabled me to make an even bigger laugh of you than before."

Harry looks a little happier, and Draco thinks him even stranger.

"I don't suppose anyone left anything, did they?" Harry asks, looking around his bed.

"No tokens of affection from your admirers?" Draco quips.

Harry ignores him and falls back on the bed, "Pomfrey spelled the wing. Can't leave it until she dismisses me." He lets out an angry huff, "She finally got fed up with my escape maneuvers. I'm going to be bored out of my mind for days"

"After seven bloody years, and you being in the hospital how many times? If I were here, I wouldn't even be bothered with the pleasantries. I would've bound you right to the bed with big showy ropes and everything." Draco sneers.

"Aw Draco, you should've just asked."

Draco gives him a startled look at the flirtatious tone.

Harry then also looks startled.

"I've been with George and Lee most of the summer." He said as way of explanation, in which Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Don't relate to me the details of your sordid past." Draco sneered, "What you do with your fellowship of merry men is on you."

Harry flushes at the implication, and goes on in denial, mentioning his ginger a few times, and Draco blocks him out and spots that Pansy brought him his manuscript. So thoughtful, that girl.

"Do you ever wonder?" Harry asks, and Draco is completely lost in the change of subject.

"Wonder what?"

"What it would've been like, if we hadn't hated each other so much all these years."

Draco raises an eyebrow, "And what's got you so introspective?"

Harry shrugs, "There's nothing else to do." Harry then tilts his head and observes Draco, "This year has gone a lot better, for one, now that my school rival isn't trying to do me in."

"A lot more boring now, too." Draco says, from his bed in the hospital wing where they just got back from meeting a nundu.

Harry laughs, and notes to himself that he hasn't been doing much in the ways of laughing the past years. Looking back, even though it was a bit cruel and petty, Draco _did _have a sense of humor. Harry was just at the butt of it for the most part.

Now, though, it was a tolerable and even at times amusing sense of humor. Even when he was being teased.

A bit like being at the messy end of a Weasley Wizard Wheezes © production.

"I wouldn't say that." Harry says, giving Draco a faint little grin. He looks curiously at the pages Draco was scribbling notes on. "Is that more of your crazy writing?"

"Crazy?" Draco scoffs, "It's understandable a man of such low class as yourself would be unable to appreciate fine literature."

"I appreciate it just fine." Harry holds up his hands, "I also recognize bollocks when I see it."

"You're just being obstinate now, aren't you?"

"How'd you learn such big words with the classes we have here?" Harry asks suddenly, "Transfiguration, Potions, no literature or writing or maths or anything."

"Is this your muggle side talking, Potter? Wizards don't _pay _for their children to bloody _read_, Potter. What ill-bred idiots do you take us for?" Draco went deadpan, "Is this why you're so daft, Potter? You stopped reading at age eleven?"

"What? No!" Harry flushed again, and Draco smirked at him triumphantly.

"No wonder muggles are all dunderheads. If I were forced into literature by way of proper _schooling _I would've given up on the whole thing as soon as I graduated."

"So who did teach you literature and all that?" Harry asked curiously.

"I had tutors all my life." Draco says proudly, "My first word, I called our old house elf quixotic."

"Isn't that a muggle term? Quixotic. From that one play."

"That _book_," Draco sneered, "Was a commentary piece on squibs attempting to assimilate into muggle culture once cast out by our world. Seen as eccentric with delusions of grandeur and in a realm of one's own making."

"There wasn't any magic in it, though."

"It was marketed to both worlds. Greedy little bugger."

Hermione's fun facts weren't nearly as interesting. Hers were all filled with political righteousness that, yes, was very sad and all, but really, he was just trying to eat breakfast 'Mione, he doesn't care where his pumpkin juice came from and he wasn't going to boycott a good meal because house elves touched it.

"Was that the only one? The only wizard-written muggle classic?"

Draco scoffs, "What _wasn't _written by a wizard? Kepler's has a whole section devoted to works that have transcended wizard barriers. Lord of the Rings, for one."

"What? No! Tolkien was a muggle war veteran and a professor. I saw a biography on the telly." Draco ignored whatever a telly was.

"Tolkien was a squib who took an old memoir and turned into a classic series."

"Frodo was _real!_"

"Many years ago, yes. Times were much different then."

Draco smiled, and Harry imagined he was dreaming himself in Sauron's place.

"I always did admire Aragorn." Harry mused.

"Not Frodo? I imagine the Weasley is your Sam."

"I suppose so. But why admire someone who reminds you of yourself? I imagine you'd relate most to Legolas, hm? Blond pretty boy?"

"Wise, noble, and youthful all the same? Yes, I suppose so. Gandalf'd be Dumbledore, of course."

"Merry and Pippin would've been Fred and George."

"Gimli would be the Granger and the Weasel's lovechild. Redheaded, frizzy, and hotheaded."

Harry should feel offended. After all, these are his best friends that Draco is making fun of.

He blinks at the image it brings to mind, though, and stifles a chuckle.

He was less serious about his life now. Whether it was from surviving a war or finding out his enemy of over seven years was a bizarre superfluous thing, he wasn't sure.

"All of them striving to defeat the Dark Lord?"

Draco cracks his back, "And, while everyone else does _real _work to try and win the war, you just up and win by a fluke. Gollum bleeding _tripped _into Mt. Doom." Draco shook his head, "He _tripped._"

"Really? I only saw the movie."

"What the hell is a movie?"

"It's a, uh, a moving picture."

"All pictures move, Potter."

"It's a play in a picture, then. They play them in theatres and on tellies, boxes that the moving pictures go in, and you can hear it and see the story unfolding and everything."

"So it's more of an excuse for daft muggles not to read."

"So you don't want to see the Lord of the Rings as a movie? They made Don Quixote into a movie, too. They have this thing called CGI, where they can look like they're doing real magic."

"So they can pretend they're wizards?"

"And aliens and monsters and all sorts of fantastic things."

"And they're all in a box called a teddy."

"George made a magic telly over the summer. It works in Hogwarts, even though muggle technology usually goes on the fritz."

Draco spends almost five minutes deliberating his next course of action, and finally makes a decision.

"You tell no one."

"I won't tell a soul." Harry grins, grabbing his wand and muttering under his breath.

A huge metal contraption appears, floating in front of him, and Draco raises an eyebrow.

"I thought you'd have nothing to do for days?" Draco asks bemusedly.

"Well, movies are no fun if no one is watching them with you." Harry supplies, and Draco walks over to where Harry's bed is, seeing that the metal contraption was smooth at the front, and with a wave of Harry's wand the smoothness lit up with color.

* * *

When Hermione and Ron come to visit them a few hours later with Pansy and Blaise in tow, (the Slytherins were slow in the news that there was life in the hospital wing,) it is to the scene of Harry and Draco both sleeping, curled up in front of Legolas and Aragorn clasping arms, Legolas handing Aragorn a delicate white necklace with the affectionate teasing words, 'You're late.'

Ron looks as if someone's mortally wounded him, but Hermione just gives the two a curious look and drags Ron away before he can make a scene.

Blaise looks incredibly amused, and Pansy's eyes narrow.

Madame Pomfrey's just glad that Harry isn't making any escape attempts like the last time.

Just like his father.

* * *

Ginny is a wonderful girlfriend.

Really.

But the first game was up in a week, and _honestly _with the amount of times Harry's been in the hospital, she waited a few hours past the initial 'he's alive and well' bit to actually visit him.

Okay, so she waited until dinner.

After dinner.

Exercise made her hungry! And it was a six-hour practice.

She took a small nap in between.

But she snuck him his favorite blueberry muffins and some pumpkin juice (because hospital wing food was awful, and he couldn't make a meal out of all the treats people always leave him when he's in the wing,) so that should count for something.

The poor thing. Having Draco all day for company. She heard the two of them had the highest toxins in their system due to the proximity they were in with the beast, so unlike Ron and Hermione they weren't discharged as soon as they woke up.

According to Hermione, Harry had been napping on and off all day.

She's a bit sad she missed it, actually. Harry always was so innocent-looking when he was asleep.

Was it the girlfriend that was supposed to say things like that?

When she walked in the hospital wing, she was a little confused.

She was expecting to find her boyfriend, solitary and dozing on the bed Madame Pomfrey put aside just for him at all times, a glaring Draco Malfoy off in the corner.

Instead, she found the two of them on just the one bed (her eye twitched at the thought,) laughing in front of her brother's invention, _sharing a box of Bertie's_, laughing? With each other?

"Are you telling me that they've got an actual man battling that windmill in real life? All to put it on, what do they call it, _film_?"

"Surely there are actors in the wizarding world. He is an _actor, _Malfoy, playing Don Quixote, who battles a windmill he thinks is a dragon."

"Plays are acted out by enchantments. None by actual wizards. We are above such menial careers." Draco muses, not sounding pompous as he would have had he said it two years ago. Instead, he sounds detached from the wizarding ideals. Harry looks far too intrigued for Ginny's liking, "Sometimes squibs play pretend."

"Wizards don't play pretend." Harry deadpans.

"No, they don't."

"That's rubbish."

"You're rubbish!" Draco retorts, and throws a green colored bean at his rival.

This turns into a Bertie's fight with the two of them wrestling on the much-too-small bed, attempting to stuff the flavored beans into each other's mouths. The two of them keep fighting, with Ginny staring shocked from the doorway, even after the two of them fall from the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Pomfrey's wing is much too prepared for that, though, and has a cushioning charm permanently enchanted into the floor.

She has thought of _everything, _and was on her dinner break right now.

The scuffle takes a turn for the worse when Draco wrestles his way onto the top, and forcefeeds Harry a handful of beans, laughing maniacally. Harry spits them out quickly and spins the two of them, pinning Draco's arms by his side and just glaring, with Draco smirking up at him like he's won a victory over Harry. And then Harry's lips quirk up in an almost-smile.

The two of them.

Just looking at each other with an intensity they've only ever reserved for each other, breathing like the two of them have been taken over by feral animals.

The intensity that makes Ginny feel like she's a stranger to her own boyfriend.

She liked it better when they were all enemies.

She clears her throat then, before something even worse happens in the heat of the moment (she's read all the articles in Wonderful Witches Weekly. She knows all about these things,) and smiles a bit awkardly when the two of them turn to look at each other. Harry looks shocked and quickly scrambles off of the blond (and it's _always _a blond, isn't it? In the stories?) and pats down his clothes. Draco just looks bothered with the whole situation, and leisurely stands up, looking at his wrinkled clothing with distaste and fixing his rumpled state with a flick of his wand.

Ginny shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Harry was muggleborn. The whole race thrived on homophobia and achieving "normalcy". Harry wouldn't fool around on her with a man, least of all _Draco Malfoy_.

Seamus Finnegan was the only pansexual with muggle relations, as far as Ginny was concerned. She was being silly, because of her guilt over being such a bad girlfriend.

"I brought you a muffin." She says, breaking the silence.

Draco bursts into laughter at all the awkwardness, lest he should suffocate from it.

* * *

**AN: **A few bases to cover~

Over three thousand words, just like I promised. Go team! It may be grammatically incorrect, because I only write when I'm tired, and only revise when I'm tired, because that's the only time that I have the patience for it.

Okay, so I'm completely ignoring what decade they are actually in, because if I were to take into consideration their time, then I would have to force them into watching the cartoonized Lord of the Rings. Elijah's Frodo is only a little gay, not a flamboyant fairy that that cartoonized Frodo is. I mean, really. He's supposed to save the world. Not ride around on a unicorn sprinkling fairy dust on everything and singing in five part harmony with his little forest friends. Or atleast that's what I remember of it.

This is pretty much the first hint of gayness, and for all of those who have been reading this story and are now shocked and appalled at the direction this is headed in, I apologize sincerely. But there won't be any X-rated smut or anything, and if you squint your eyes it's just a bromance even, because I am a prude. A sailor mouth prude.

The first hint is always through a woman's perceptiveness. Because we are wise, although often in denial.


	12. Chapter 12

The nundu-hunters keep everyone in the same dorms, one more night, just to ensure that the nundu really is gone for good.

Draco does not know whether he should protest staying in the Gryffindor dorms or not. On one hand, the Weasley was horrible to be in the same room with for such a prolonged amount of time. On the other hand, if that meant the Gryffindors staying in the Slytherin dorms... Well... That simply would not do.

It was such a shame, how easy it was to make officials look like total incompetent buffoons. It took hundreds of officials to take down a nundu that spent it's spare time _cuddling Potters._

Cuddling. Potters.

What was with Harry Potter that defied every law of reality? One couldn't even _kill _him without the world deciding no, that was _not _how things were going to work. He was beyond dumb luck. He was a dumb miracle that continued to shock the world with it's inexplainable... _everything_.

Harry Potter, ever since day one, just lived to perplex. Harry Perplex, the Boy Who Defied Reason. It was like that one movie he and Harry watched, with the curly-haired muggle who's life was being controlled by a woman muggle's narration. Only this author very much wanted Harry to remain alive, no matter what reality threw at him.

He was impossible. In every sense of the world.

Which is why Draco Malfoy had holed himself up in the boy's rooms, long before anyone had even considered going up to bed, and had gotten caught in a staring match with Harry Potter's pet snake.

Harry Potter had a pet snake. Of course he did. Why shouldn't he?

He wondered if it used to give the other gryffindors nightmares about all of the evil, bad Slytherins and Death Eaters and the like.

Now, Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin. His house animal was a snake, he knew snake conjuring charms like the back of his well-kept hand, he slept in the bloody _dungeons _even. Snakes were a given with his life.

But personally? They were all slimy little buggers that were only useful for providing skin for Draco's shoes.

But the snake. Kept. Staring at him.

"Oh, come off it." Draco sneered at the beady black eyes, "As if you're so superior. Your brain is the size of my _thumb_. I am not the idiot. You are."

The snake keeps staring at him as if it is not convinced in the slightest.

"Um, Malfoy?" The Gryffindors enter the room, staring at him warily. He breaks the staring contest with the snake reluctantly and sneers at Harry instead.

"Mate, are you alright?" Seamus asks, giving him a little grin.

"If I am not out of this dorm by tomorrow." Draco promises, glaring at all of them.

Most of them are content with this and go about their business, only Harry staying behind to keep him company.

"Blackadder says that you're a very peculiar human." Harry informs him plainly before he, too, finds other things to do, "But that you're also very amusing."

"Right. Good on him."

"Oh, and Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"A silencing charm works."

"For the snake? Don't be daft."

"No, for Ron. Just build your bed up like a fortress and it should hold out for the most part."

"The most part?"

"We've silenced his bed continuously since first year, mate. His snoring has magical properties."

"How insufferable."

It takes five whole seconds for Draco to realize that everyone is now calling him _mate, _like some_commoner, _and by then it's only him and Blaise in the room while all of the Gryffindors take a post-dinner pre-bed shower.

Blaise tilts his head at him, eerily similar to how the snake looked at him.

"You look all... squishy inside." He comments, and Blaise has never told him there's empathy in his blood but with how notoriously his family _seduced _he wouldn't have been surprised, "Pans might get jealous."

"Oh shut up."

* * *

"I'm sure if you try, you could-"

"Hermione, don't even start. I love you, honestly, I do, but even I know that you're full of bollocks."

"Ginny!"

"It's true. You can be objective, say she isn't that bad. Sure, I can say that too, when I don't have to be in the same room as her. Which is why I'm sleeping here for the night, and you don't have a choice. Unless you want me to get into another fight."

"I don't know what's gotten you so fired up in the first place."

"Are you having a laugh?" Pansy asked, holding in a little giggle herself.

"What?"

"If the Weasley's not known for dating the Boy Who Lived, it's for her fiery temper. Didn't she give the whole entire Ravenclaw team the bat bogey hex all at once because they had all argued their way into a rematch?"

"On the grounds that their team was inferior to ours!"

"Yeah, I'm not sure that's what they said."

"We all knew it was what they meant."  
"Ginny, don't be difficult."

"Hermione, don't chide me."

"Both of you, continue on. Please. This is getting hilarious." Pansy chuckled to herself, sitting on her bed to get a better view.

Hermione sighs and changes the subject.

"So where do you plan to be sleeping? We don't have enough beds for everyone."

Ginny raises an eyebrow. An eyebrow that grew up in a family with several older, rowdy brothers, that survived a war, that killed roosters and passed out, dying, on a stone floor.

"I brought one of those muggle sleeping bags you told me about."

Hermione gives a long, drawn-out sigh and goes off to take a shower.

"Right. Now that we're alone," Pansy moves off of her bed and sits on the sleeping bag as soon as Ginny rolls it out. Ginny looks like she's about to complain, loudly, and possibly start a fight, but Pansy interrupts her real quick, "I have a proposition for you."

"You? Really?"

"Yes, dear. Me, dear. Really, dear." Pansy rushes out while rolling her eyes, "See, I want my Draco back."

"Your Draco?"

"Don't be slow, dear. I know you're quick, although not as quick as Granger is. Now I'm assuming you want your Potter back too?"

"Harry isn't some possession-"

"Oh come off your bleeding self-righteous holier than thou attitude, it's annoying as all hell." Pansy found that it was better to be blunt and crude when dealing with Gryffindors. "Now that Drakie and Potter are getting closer, we are being shoved off to the side. Second fiddle. And that is _not _acceptable."

"What of it then? Just because Malfoy is getting bored of you doesn't mean anything with Harry."

"When was the last time you two were alone together?" Ginny opens her mouth to answer, "That he kissed you? Like he couldn't live without you by his side? Not just a greeting peck on the cheek. Better yet, when was the last time that he made you feel special."

"All the time." Ginny protested, weakly in Pansy's opinion.

"Regardless. We are being looked over. _Us. _Their number one females. For what, a budding, what's the term-_bromance?_"

Ginny snorts.

"This is getting ridiculous."

"Exactly. Their foolishness must _end_. So I propose an alliance. Two of the deadliest girls in the school, combined to get their men back."

Pansy reaches out her hands, and her mind screams _no! Bad Slytherin! Away!_

But her heart is a little lonely. She was never close to many of the girls in this house, and she had gone through most of her guy friends as soon as puberty hit. Other than Hermione and Neville, she had close to no one in the house that wasn't her brother or her boyfriend.

And she did kind of miss him... They hadn't had a real moment alone together since Draco first befriended Harry. She hated being the jealous girlfriend. She used to see all those girls, pining over and clinging to their boyfriends and Ginny would vow _never _to become like them. Harry hated girls like that. Ginny wouldn't cling to him. Her love would be soft and warm and would enable him to _breathe, _not suffocate him.

But she felt like he was slipping away.

"Weasley?" Pansy asks, shaking her hand a bit to get her attention.

"... No evil plots."

"_Cunning_, Weasley, _cunning _plots."

They spend the next few minutes plotting, and then Pansy abruptly changes the subject to attractive Quidditch players once Hermione's done with her shower.

"I don't like what I missed." Hermione says, conveniently walking back into the room as soon as the two finish conversing. "But at the same time, I'm afraid to find out."

"Good thinking, Granger. You _are _the brightest witch of our age. Now! Sweet dreams, everyone."

* * *

"This is the last one, Malfoy. I have to sleep soon." Harry yawns into his hand, and looks to Draco over the large bowl of popcorn. They were in the common room, the fireplace replaced with a widescreen television, and something called Doctor Who on the screen.

"If this one ends with a cliffhanger like that other one did..."

"No, no, I promise it won't. There'll be a happy ending, I swear."

"This master character... He doesn't die, right?"

"I'm not saying anything... But he _is_ one of my favorite characters."

"Really? You? The Gryffindor?"

"He's misguided, yes, and cruel... But he's the Doctor's other half. The two of them on opposite ends of the universe. He can make the Doctor happy."

"The idea of him makes him happy. And that, in turn, makes the Doctor weak against him. Life with the Doctor is the Master's worst nightmare. They can't survive with each other."

"But if the two of them worked together, imagine all they could do."

"To work together, they have to have the same goal. And that can never happen. They're two different."

"Opposites attract."

Draco frowns and they continue watching the show in silence.

"I like the Captain best." Draco announces, and the two watch John Barrowman's cape billow as he runs.

"He _does _have his charm." Harry admits.

* * *

"Draco, are you crying?"

"No."

"Really, Draco, it's okay. It's a moving show."

"I'm not moved."

"Really, then? What do you think of the end, then?"

Draco looks at the screen. Looks at Harry.

Frowns.

"They're all idiots. And while Martha was one of the biggest idiots of all... It was smart of her to leave."

And then he leaves himself, without helping to clean anything up.

"Alright then."

* * *

_Now, Weasley girl, what is every man's most coveted fantasy, but at the same time his worst nightmare ?_

_Um, absolute power?_

_What? Where would you even—no, oh my god, who has been influencing you your whole entire life. You sound like a trashy philosophical novel. A lesbian girlfriend, dumbtwot._

_What? Dumbtwot? What does that even—lesbian? That's your plan? You want me to be a skirtlifter?_

_No, no, no, I want you to entertain the thought in front of Potter. Subtly, of course, subtly. Well, not so subtle. The boy's pretty thick when he wants to be. Which is almost all of the time._

_Do you always have to be such a brat?_

_Do you Gryffindors always have to make it so easy?_

* * *

Harry frowns only for a second when, rather than sit at the Gryffindor table next to him like she always does, she pats him on the head and goes on to the Ravenclaw table to sit next to Luna. But Luna is their friend, so Harry doesn't really mind, and keeps on eating.

When Seamus asks him if they're doing something special later on, because Ginny's all done up with as much makeup boarding school can get away with, and her hair is in waves, he's only surprised for a few seconds. One, because he didn't realize she was "done up" like Seamus said, and two, because he didn't know _why _she was dressed up. Then he wondered if they were doing something special later on that _he _didn't know about, and got a little happy.

He is a little disappointed, at the end of the day, when any time he sees Ginny she's off giggling with Luna about something. But only a little disappointed.

He is very disappointed when this goes on for three whole days.

But he's angry when Pansy decides to confront him about it.

"Looks like your girlfriend's left you, Potter." Pansy says conversationally as she catches him alone.

"What are you on about? Me and Ginny are fine."

"Yes, yes, that's why she's making bedroom eyes at Luna. Of course it is."

"What? _Luna_? You're off your mind."

"Right. Of course I am. Sorry, I must have been confused."

And she _skips _away.

* * *

Harry wandered. He hadn't had that much luck with people throughout his life, much less girls. He pretty much became best friends with the first nice people he _met_, and the rest of his close friends were half-giants, house elves, and werewolves. Not that there was anything wrong with them. They were wonderful people...

He just wasn't very normal.

And he wasn't used to dealing with normal situations.

If he was being completely honest, he'd say that he was completely clueless when it came to anything other than risking his life. So he had to get a normal person's opinion on this.

Ron?

No, wait. Sister.

Hermione? Maybe. She was close to Ginny, and one of his best friends, and after all they'd been through together he was sure he could talk to her about _girls _of all things.

He felt his ears turn red.

He spotted a blond head and zeroed in on it.

Draco was lounging underneath a tree, heavy book in his lap, when Harry comes stumbling towards him and collapses next to him in a pile of emotional distraught.

This was Draco's alone time, and he did not appreciate it being interrupted.

"What's got you all strange-looking? Your face looks like you've tripped into a dungbomb."

"I think Ginny doesn't like me anymore." Harry blurts out, immediately regretting it after.

"_That_ is your woe. You sound like a _child_. The bleeding girl has been obsessed with you before she's even met you. You are her knight in wild, untamed hair, saving her life from all her worries... Wait, you're horrible at that bit. Nevermind, she's going to leave you."

Harry glowers at him.

"You're such a prat."

"And you bruise pretty easily if just that sets you off."

Harry shakes his head.

"I'm just rubbish at this."

Draco observes Harry, how honest he's being with Draco when before, the _last _thing he would do would be admitting to Draco any faults of his.

Oh, how far they've all fallen.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So there hasn't been much Ginny in the story so far, and boy has she noticed it.

And the Doctor Who episode they're watching earlier on is a David Tennant one. Props to whoever knows it.

And if everyone is horribly out of character, I apologize. I can't control this thing.


	13. Chapter 13

"Pansy, you're plotting again." Blaise chastised.

The setting was perfect for getting lost in thoughts of wicked schemes, though. They're sitting under that big tree by the lake, the one with all the knots on one side and the carvings on the other that they had claimed back in second year. The golden trio had claimed the other tree, almost equal in size and only a dozen feet away from theirs. Each group always claimed that theirs was the largest, but in reality both trees were exact in size, right down to the very leaf. They were twins, very competitive ones, that never quite managed to best the other. All the other trees thought them very silly and grew at their own slow pace.

It was very easy for Pansy to get lost in her thoughts when under this tree, especially when there was only Blaise to keep her company. He wasn't a very entertaining companion. He preferred to be in the shadows, as some in Slytherin were oft to do, putting in some sarcastic quip here and there when he felt the need. He read, mostly.

Right now he was working through Mein Kampf. The minds of the psychotic, whether muggle or wizard, interested him.

"You're being delusional, Blaise." Pansy says, scratching notes into her parchment. With an encryption charm enabled, of course. She was young, not stupid.

"Right." He replies, going back to his book. That was the extent of any confrontation he was planning on. Now he would sit back and observe whatever mayhem followed with Pansy safe in the knowledge that yes, to him, she was completely transparent.

After all, he saw her last plot coming a mile away. Those students turned into canaries and then attacked by house cats within an inch of their life? The students that just so happened to be the ones who victimized her in the beginning of the year? It screamed Pansy. He was just surprised no one else made the connection, although if Draco bothered to pay attention to anything that wasn't Slytherin or Gryffindor related, he would have noticed also. Sometimes the boy was so sloppy in his narrow-minded attitude.

Pansy frowns at Blaise a little, clearly expecting a Draco-worthy interrogation that would eventually have her gossiping excitedly about her genius. Blaise was so disappointing sometimes.

She sees him then, passing by with Harry in tow, having some debate over something mundane that Pansy had no interest in. She noted with a small tinge of amusement there were no redheads present. And that it had never been so quiet.

"Potter!" She calls, waving at them cheerily. Blaise gives a silent little groan of protest that she all too easily ignores, "Draco darling! Over here!"

Harry quickly shuts up whatever point he was arguing with a little flush at his ears and Draco gives Pansy an amused little smirk, sauntering over to where the two are.

"Pansy. You seem awfully irritating today." Draco greeted, kissing her briefly on the cheek.

"Because I'm reaching out for your company and not letting you have Potter all to yourself?"

"Yes, that's exactly why you're irritating me."

"Because you're threatened that I might start a relationship with Harry too?"

"You're calling me Harry now?" Is all that Harry seemed to notice.

"You've been getting into the dragon blood haven't you." Draco accused with his eyes narrowed.

"Dragon blood?" Harry asked.

"So he really is brainless." Blaise mutters, turning another page of his book.

Harry willfully ignores him.

"Just because you're in his pants doesn't mean you have to keep blurting all our secrets out like a Gryffindor," Pansy looks at Draco in shame.

"Gryffindor isn't an insult, Parkinson." Harry protested.

Draco snorted, which was very unbecoming of his aristocratic lineage. He quickly made up for that by giving both Pansy and Harry superior looks.

"The only time Gryffindor isn't an insult is when you're a Gryffindor yourself." Draco explained patronizingly, giving Harry what he thought was a comforting smile.

Harry just looked disturbed and a little angry.

"You know, you all say us hanging around each other is some buggered up political alliance or something, but I think really you were just tired of not being able to insult anyone anymore."

"Got it in one." Blaise said in a flat tone. Another page turned.

Author's Note: So it's been awhile since the last update.. as in a few months. and this update is pretty short. oh well.


	14. Chapter 14

Draco is cornered. Normally, this would require extreme evasive action, consisting of physical retaliation and copious amounts of jinxing. But even before they moved in for the kill he could smell expensive hair products and a perfume mainly comprised of crushed belladonna.

Pansy.

"Dear, I know you have always had some uncontainable attraction to me, but do you really have to sneak up on me in the prefect's bath?"

"Just enjoying the view, darling." Pansy smiled, "And the alone time."

"For any reason in particular?"

"Just to talk."

Brilliant.

He gently shoves her aside and starts the water, turning the precise blend of colors necessary for the perfect bath.

"May I join you?" Pansy asks in a flirtatious tone.

"Are you clean?" He asks in a serious tone.

"I haven't shot up in weeks." She jokes, starting to disrobe with no shame.

"I'll scourgify you if you step one foot closer."

"Clean me, baby, I've been a dirty boy." She's giggling now.

"Yes, dearest, you're 'one of the guys' in the most disturbing of definitions." He rolled his eyes.

"Enough for a serious talk about emotions?" She sits behind him on the stone, her legs crossed and her face stoney.

"If you think guys talk about emotions than you clearly aren't one of us."

"Then we can have girl talk."

"Merlin, woman, out with it already!"

"I'm turning Ginny into a lesbian for you."

"What."

"I'm turning Ginny-"

"Don't mock me. I hear perfectly. By 'what', I meant _explain yourself, bloody mad woman._"

"Then articulate yourself properly."

"Explain yourself properly first, and I won't have to."

"I've gotten Ginny out of the way, for now, by convincing her to start a fake budding relationship with Lovegood in the attempt to make our young heroine jealous."

"The young heroine being Potter."

"That's Harry to you, hero."

"Oh merlin. You think I'm in one of those trashy novels you're fond of."

"I see the bedroom eyes you and Potter make at each other."

"You're daft. I only ever look at him with dread or sadistic amusement."

"Draco, honey, I'm just doing this to make you _happy_!"

"Merlin, woman, don't touch me with your germ-infested hands while I'm in the bath!"

"Don't be so finicky about germs while I'm trying to give you love and affection!"

"You're not Pansy! Pansy never gives a shite about anyone's love and affection! What Hufflepuff has procured polyjuice potion in an attempt to ridicule me!"

Draco spins around and a wand appears out of a place Pansy can't quite place and it's aimed at her.

"Darling, you're being very stupid about this."

"I'm being practical."

"And shameless." She smirks down at him and the very convenient bubbles that were slowly disappearing, one by one, but he doesn't even flinch, "Do I have to tell stories of our childhood? It was the age of five, when we were at a dinner party at your mansion and you discovered the stark difference between boys and girls because, until then, you were under the delusion that everyone had a lesser impressive version of what you had in your pants."

"Of course you would use _that _story."

He sighs and relaxes back into the bath.

"Because I'm Pansy. And you are being incredibly stupid."

"I feel like a Gryffindor. I have no clue what's happening."

"It's overexposure. And you've fallen for one, no less."

"You keep saying that as if it's actually happened, Pans."

"Because it has, sweetie, and I've given you about a week before the girlfriend moves in for the teary intervention."

"Pansy, what is this really all about."

"Draco, you're unhappy. You've been unhappy since you were born."

"And you believe Potter to be the salvation to my unhappiness."

"Well you're the one who has everything set in motion already. You've established the first meeting, first year, established the friendship this year, with him, and for what? You two are supposed to hate the very sight of each other, and now you're walking together and laughing together and going on bloody _adventures _together, and for what?"

"For_ you_."

"If you were really that selfless, sweetheart, that wouldn't have been the way to go about it. It worked, yes, but it wasn't selfless."

"Pans-"

"I'm not angry at you for it. Call me a Hufflepuff, but it's not as excrutiatingly painful as I thought it would be. And you're happier, now, but you're still not happy."

"And you believe a romantic entanglement with Potter would make me happy."

"Yes. So I've set things in motion for you."

And with that, she scuttles off.

"Women." He shakes his head with a small sense of dread building in his stomach, "Bloody insane, the lot of them."

* * *

It's during potions that Pansy has the opportunity to implement another phase of her plan. The Granger addition.

"Who do they think they're fooling?" Pansy mutters, grinding the belladonna leaves to a fine powder.

"Pardon?" Hermione asks, counting to five and then stirring the cauldron once counter-clockwise.

Pansy starts, looking at Hermione as if she hadn't realized she had been speaking aloud. Then she sighs, careful not to blow the belladonna out of the mortar, and leans in closer to Hermione.

"Those two. Our beloved self-involved heros of the houses?" Pansy is careful not to look at the two while Hermione's eyes snap to Harry and Draco bickering with each other.

"What do you mean 'fooling'? They're acting the same as they always do."

"Yes, yes, their sniping comes so naturally to them. Ever wonder why?"

"Because they spent the last seven years fighting with each other?"

"No, no, look at them. Potter's not even doing that strange facial tick he has whenever he's annoyed."

"Yes, they're friends now. What are they supposedly masquerading as, Parkinson? Really, I have no clue what you're alluding to."

"Draco and Potter could never be _friends. _They can be enemies, of course, there's enough intensity for that. But friends? That sounds so weak."

"There's nothing weak about friendship!" Hermione retorts, a little too loudly, and a few students turn to look at her. Brilliant.

"For those two, though?"

"And what do you suggest? They go back to hating each other?"

Pansy looks at her.

Hermione frowns back.

Pansy waggles her eyebrow.

"Honestly, Pansy, is everything a dirty joke to you?"

But Pansy smirks inwardly when Hermione gives Draco and Harry a puzzled look, before getting that determined expression on her face.

* * *

It's in between the dining hall and the common rooms that Hermione whisks Harry off into an empty room, brushing everyone off as she faces Harry with her 'getting to the bottom of things' look.

"Harry, has something been going on lately?"

"What d'you mean, Hermione?"

"Well, you've been a little distant lately. And you and Ginny haven't been spending much time together. And the whole arrangement with the Slytherins, of course, have been very peculiar."

"So are you looking for just one general reason for everything? Or an explanation of each issue in great depth."

"I'm looking for the _truth_, Harry, I'm _worried _about you."

"Nothing is happening, 'Mione."

"Right. I have been completely mistaken. You and Ginny aren't drifting apart, you're not slowly becoming best mates with Malfoy, and you're not depressed."

"I'm not depressed!" He shook his head, "None of what you said is true!"

"Because I'm an idiot."

"'Mione-"

"No. Tell me the truth, Harry. I know when you're lying to me, and you'll feel better when you talk about it."

"No, I won't."

"In the long run."

"What am I supposed to tell you when even _I _don't know what's happening? My girlfriend hasn't said more than two words to me, Draco's, well, he's a _git, _but not the same evil prat he's been since I met him, and it's almost like we're _friends _or something, although if I can't stand Justin Finch-Fletchley but can spend all my time with Draco _Malfoy _of all people, what does that say about me?"

Hermione didn't want to acknowledge the fact that Harry's problems with Ginny only warranted a fragment of a sentence, while Harry's mind was filled with a blond ferret. And that Harry had called him 'Draco' without noticing. So she didn't.

"All it says is that Justin is an annoying prat, even Slytherins look good next to him." She was at a loss about his other concerns, "And that you need to have a long talk with Ginny."

"I suppose you're right."

"Oh, and don't tell Ron that you don't mind Malfoy's company."

"I'm confused, not stupid."


End file.
